


Once Removed

by ikindaneedahero, thiscitychick (ikindaneedahero)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, Luna Lovegood Being Luna Lovegood, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Professor Tom Riddle, Pureblood Hermione Granger, Rodolphus is Hermione's father, Sane Tom Riddle, in potentially non canon ways, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 65,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikindaneedahero/pseuds/ikindaneedahero, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikindaneedahero/pseuds/thiscitychick
Summary: All it takes is one spell for Tom Riddle to solve wizarding Britain's two biggest problems: declining pure-blood births and muggleborns.On one winter night, three-month-old Jean Granger becomes Hermione Lestrange, the first muggleborn to undergo a ritual that will forever blur the lines of pure and impure. When dark and light aren't quite what they seem, Hermione will find out for herself who and what she's worth.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Regulus Black/Rabastan Lestrange
Comments: 336
Kudos: 907





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was stuck in my brain and wouldn't quite go away. Get ready for a wild ride!
> 
> Let me know what you think, and happy new year to all!

**June 17, 1979**

Rodolphus was keenly aware of the eyes that bore into him while he sat four seats over from the Dark Lord, the eager members of the outer circle shifting from foot to foot where they stood. The scent of desperation wafting over to the inner circle was almost palpable. He knew that there were many that would kill for a seat at the table, willing to do anything necessary to get into the good graces of the man they revered and feared.

And he wasn’t a fool- he also knew that they wondered how he was seated so close to the Dark Lord, only separated on both sides by six of his brethren. Those in the top echelon of the ever-changing inner circle were smart enough to know that the Dark Lord was slow to trust and quick to anger. That’s why Rodolphus listened to the impassioned shouts of his normally stoic fellows with a blank look on his face.

“They are thieves! Stealing magic from historic lines, causing the increase of squib births in noble house across the wizarding world,” spat Domitian Borgin, almost frothing at the mouth in anger from where he stood the front of the outer circle.

“Ah, Domitian, seems your father’s lack of intelligence is an inherited trait. A pity,” drawled Abraxas Malfoy from where he sat, directly at the right hand of the Dark Lord. The Minister of Magic was a powerful man from an even more powerful family, only overshadowed by their Lord. “While mudbloods are nothing more than a speck of dirt on my dragonhide boots, the truth remains the same. Our people’s ancestral history is a rich and tangled web, but all my research has shown that mudbloods have a squib or magical relative somewhere in their lines, be it six or more generations back.”

“Be that as it may, there is more harm than good done when we let this filth into our world. It doesn’t just stop with one- their parents, grandparents and siblings all have knowledge that puts us at risk. Look what muggles did to one another during their world war. Bombs, guns-“ said Xanthos Lovegood from the end of the table, hands gesturing wildly as though he’d lost his mind. Most thought he had, admittedly, the blond always droning on about nargles and liggliwhatsits.

“A bum?” asked Domitian, his gaunt face looking particularly ugly with the addition of a confused expression.

“A bomb,” Xanthos enunciated with a pitying glare at the dumb man. How did you expect to lord over muggles if you knew nothing about their world? “A device that operates like an entrail-expelling curse, only able to decimate hundreds of millions of people at once. Muggles are bloodthirsty and dangerous with no preservation for their own kind. Can we even predict the harm that would befall our wives and precious children if we let them into our society?”

“Point well taken, Xanthos,” said Abraxas with a nod towards his fellow bleach blond companion. “But magical Britain is dying out without the infusion of new blood. How are we to grow our population and ranks if not for mudbloods and half-bloods?”

“My Lord, if I may,” said Thaddeus Nott from where he sat to Rodolphus’ right, one seat closer to the Dark Lord. “The numbers don’t lie. We see the impacts of decades of inter-family breeding in our own ranks. Previously fertile pure-blood families, such as the Greengrasses and my own, have seen one child born for three generations now. The Peverells and Burkes have a spinster left each, two more lines that will cease to exist in mere years. We must insulate our ranks, and these mudbloods can solve the problem for us.”

For the first time during the raucous debate, the Dark Lord spoke. Rodolphus was well-trained by his late father and didn’t even flinch as the handsome, raven-hair man spoke.

“And how do you suggest we do that, Thaddeus? Invite mudbloods and their relatives into our world, trusting they’ll exhibit the goodwill they deign show each other?”

“No, my Lord,” Thaddeus spoke quickly, his nervousness only revealed by the twitch of his eye. The man was a scrawny creep, but he was smart. “By magic only contained in the grimoire of ancient pure-blood families – a blood rite. Hogwarts has a magical book that updates with the names of mudbloods the first time they display accidental magic which then allows the Headmaster to know who is granted admission each year.

“If we are to take possession of this book, we can then take these magical children from their parents before they’re old enough to know of the muggle world.”

“What will we do when these families start to look for their children?” asked Bancroft Avery from halfway down the table, his son Munson seated to his left.

“Depending on our Lord’s grace, we can either obliviate or kill the muggles who spawn the children,” said Thaddeus.

“What of their upbringing?” asked the Dark Lord succinctly, his face blank.

“The Nott family grimoire contains many blood magic rituals, of course, one being that of adoption. We are to place these children with pure-blood families at your behest, my Lord, and make them pure by blood magic. This magic is so strong in ancient families that children will take on the physical traits of the family they are adopted into.”

“If I may, my Lord,” spoke Regulus Black from where he sat next to Rodolphus’ brother, Rabastan. “My aunt Cassiopeia is a Black by the means of this very magic. My grandfather claimed her as our own after killing her half-blood mother and father in a duel. She is no less pure than me- the Black vaults and property wards all recognize her as one of our own. There is no greater test of this magic’s veracity than Gringotts.”

Rodolphus was glad to know his wife as well as he did, sharing a quick glance with both Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy as the only woman in the room let out a hiss at the mention of her aunt.

“Pure by saving grace, not the birthing canal she came out from,” Bellatrix said with a look towards her cousin, causing murmurs from the outer circle at her unladylike gall.

The Dark Lord didn’t give the woman to his left a look or a response before asking, “Raise your hand if your line would adopt one of these children or believe your pure-blood brethren should do so. If we were to partake in this endeavor, they would be yours by blood, no different from those, as Bellatrix so eloquently stated, that come from your wife’s birth canal.”

Titters erupted at the Lord’s unexpected, but increasingly common quip while the majority of hands around the room went up. At the table, only Bellatrix and the Dark Lord remained with their hands down. Rodolphus didn’t look at his wife, knowing the look that would be on her face if he were to gaze into her crazed eyes.

“If I may, my Lord,” drawled Severus Snape from the end of the table, his long black hair covering half of his deathly pale face. “What role will the Ministry play in our plans? Certainly we cannot expect the Order and those of the purported light to simply go along with this.”

The handsome man at the head of the table simply inclined his right hand towards Abraxas.

“It is very good for our cause that the Minister of Magic is on board, then, isn’t it?” Abraxas said with a bark of haughty laughter. The man was a pompous arse, but as brilliant and cunning as they come. A Slytherin among mere garden snakes. “We simply have one of our own bring up legislation at the next meeting of the Wizengamot where we vote. Our numbers vastly outweigh any opposition, and we are more than capable of swaying members without allegiance to Dumbledore’s so-called cause. The next meeting of the full body is in a fortnight, so we will start whipping votes in the morning.”

“Very well. I am certain I’ll have an earful from our beloved headmaster in no time,” said the Dark Lord with an attractive smirk curled on his lips. The Dark Lord, or Professor Riddle, was the current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, where he was under the watchful eye of current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Or so the doddering old fool believed.

Tom Riddle was where he was for a simple reason, Rodolphus thought. He was unapologetic, willing to move forward on the bold agenda to close their world off to any and all threats in order to prosper. All it took was one encounter with a muggle for any bystander to know that wizards were superior in each way- there was no contest. Muggles may have their violent tools and vastly outnumber those in wizarding Britain, but the sheer power of magic was enough to overwhelm the entire population. Yet, the Dark Lord was more merciful and less bloodthirsty than Albus Dumbledore would ever let his hapless followers know.

“Abraxas will make himself available to answer for any and all concerns on the upcoming vote. Continue to ponder the best course of action as we move towards a greater and more prosperous world for our kind.”

The outer circle took this as their cue to exit, silently and quickly walking out of the drawing room in Malfoy Manor.

Once the doors shut, leaving only the Dark Lord and his current most trusted 13 servants, he spoke again.

“I believe obliviation is an acceptable means of acquiring the children that are rightfully ours. I am a merciful man, after all.”

”My Lord, will you require a list of the families you deem worthy of such a child?” Asked Lucius, speaking for the first time that evening.

“That would be most helpful, wouldn’t it? Abraxas, gather the names of those that believe their lines worthy of such a child within our circle. We’ll be required, of course, to include the names of several outside of our circle to quell the outrage surely to come.”

“Absolutely, my Lord.”

“Rodolphus and Rabastan, you’ve been awfully quiet this evening. Do you share Bellatrix’s thoughts on this venture?”

Rabastan smartly kept his eyes down and mouth shut, deferring to his older -and more mild-mannered- brother.

“I think it’s a wise idea, my Lord. The Lestrange line has but two left and has not seen a daughter in six generations. We would be grateful to prosper once more.”

Bellatrix scoffed at her husband’s sentiment, drawing no notice from those who were now numb to both her presence and acidity after repeated exposure.

“Very gracious words, Rodolphus. You seem to be willing to go against your wife’s wishes, something I hear is a dangerous move.” 

Light laughter erupted around the table for the second time that evening.

“My father taught my brother and I that nothing is more precious than continuing the Lestrange bloodline, my Lord. I am only hoping to fulfill his last wish.”

Rabastan’s lips twitched, a tell only known by Rodolphus as him holding back laughter. 

“Your father was one of my best. We shall see if his dying wish is granted.”

Rodolphus nodded stiffly, simultaneously terrified and elated at the prospect of bringing a Lestrange heir into this world.

——

**January 11, 1980**

Maintaining an ancient pure-blood estate with a wife who’d rather burn down muggle bookshops than order about house elves was a full time job. Rodolphus was in the middle of writing a letter for a donation of duplicate texts to Hogwarts when the fire in his study turned green, Lucius’ head immediately popping out.

“Come through to the manor immediately,” the man said before popping out of sight.

Despite his visceral fear and hatred for his wife, Rodolphus was close with his brother and sister-in-law. Thankfully, Bellatrix graduated from Hogwarts four years ahead of the Malfoys and himself, giving them a few sweet years of reprieve. 

Rodolphus grabbed a handful of Floo powder before shouting “Malfoy Manor,” stepping into the lavish entryway of Lucius’ residence. He schooled his features at the sight of the Dark Lord, both Malfoy men, Nott, Severus Snape, Antonin Dolohov and Jorund Rowle standing in a semicircle with rapt attention on whatever was in front of them. 

The latter two were outside of Rodolphus’ virtually nonexistent circle of trust, the former man his classmate at Hogwarts who had always been as silent as a serial killer and the second a mountain of a man who had proved himself through vague personal connections with Wizarding communities throughout Europe. ]

“Ah, Rodolphus,” the Dark Lord said with a lazy look over his shoulder. The Floo sounded immediately, Rabastan and Regulus stepping out in tandem with poorly concealed confusion on their faces. The elder Lestrange didn’t have to look at Severus to know he was cursing the fools for the way they forgot their occlumency training in almost every situation. 

“The whole family is here, how wonderful,” said the Dark Lord with a small, potentially genuine smile on his face. He gestured the trio forward with a small wave. 

Hidden in front of the tall men were three Malfoy elves and Narcissa Malfoy, who was cradling a small bundle in her arms. Rodolphus could make no pertinent observations, much to his frustration, surmising that she was holding Draco, a scene he’d seen countless times since the boy was born two months prior. It only took her rocking side-to-side slightly for the man to see that the baby’s hair was a dark brown rather than the telltale Malfoy platinum.

“This right here is Jean. Her name appeared in the Hogwarts admissions book that Severus has been keeping an eye on. At under four months old, she was already sick enough of her muggle relatives to show an impressive display of accidental magic, ripping up every inch of carpet from her former home. Perhaps she was angry with the matronly muggle name that was chosen for her by dear Helen and Richard Granger?” 

The men in attendance guffawed at their Lord’s joke. Everyone wanted to encourage his rare humorous side, in the hopes it’d come out more frequently, regardless of how morbid said humor was. 

“It looks like your father will get his wish and the Lestrange family will indeed see another daughter. Narcissa, be a dear and let Rodolphus hold the child” 

Narcissa gave Rodolphus a small smile, knowing full well that her diminutive form and hospitable pureblood persona protected her from a second thought. It was the strongest power a beautiful pure-blood woman held- perceived innocence. The elder Lestrange let out a small gasp when he carefully held the tiny girl, taking in her face for the first time. 

Her hair was a beautiful combination of gold and chocolate locks, and Rodolphus knew it’d grow to be even more striking as the girl grew. Her pert nose was slightly scrunched in her sleep, highlighting the light dusting of freckles on her face. He was dying to know what color eyes she had and if they’d turn the same shade of bright blue that was a ubiquitous feature of Lestrange’s.

“It’s time to perform the ritual. Thaddeus, please get us started.” 

“Yes, my Lord. Let me grab the grimoire from my estate, I’ll return shortly.”

With that, the weedy man scurried off, throwing powder in the fireplace.

“Bellatrix sends her regrets for not being able to attend this family affair. She’s tied up elsewhere, unfortunately.”

Narcissa’s face grew pale at this admission from the man. No one wanted to know what the woman got up to on a daily basis. The less time Bellatrix spent in their presence, the better. 

“No worries, my Lord. As paterfamilias, my blood is sufficient to complete the spell, but Rabastan’s will help strengthen the girl’s tie to the Lestrange line. As Bellatrix is a Lestrange by marriage, her presence will not enhance the bond in any meaningful way,” The man let it go unsaid that having Bellatrix magically tied to the baby would result in unthinkable consequences for everyone involved, especially the innocent life held in his arms. 

“Very well,” said the Dark Lord. Eyes boring into Nott where he had begun setting up for the ritual.

“It’s very simple,” Thaddeus began, looking down as he opened the grimoire to a page he’d surely memorized before he’d even presented his idea to the Dark Lord. “Lestrange blood goes into the potion I’ve here, the girl drinks it while both you and Rabastan lay a hand on her. The spell is here.”

Rabastan walked towards his brother, making eye contact before quickly resuming a stoic facade. His brother was always amazed at his ability to become nothing more than a shell of the vivacious man he knew him to be. It was what allowed him to survive in the dangerous crowd they found themselves immersed in. 

Thaddeus used a ceremonial dagger to slice a small cut on both Lestrange brothers’ hands, adding the blood to a now vibrant gold potion.

“Narcissa, if you will,” Thaddeus said, handing over the potion in explicit instruction to the only woman among them. With a quick wave of her hand the mixture was transferred to what could only be a baby bottle.

The younger Lestrange laid a large hand over the little girl’s cheek, almost covering her entire face with his gentle touch. The brothers began to chant as Narcissa cooed for the sleeping little girl to open her mouth, pressing a manicured finger into the hinge of her tiny jaw ever so gently. 

Rodolphus would never share, not even with his brother, but his heart squeezed painfully at the way the little girl began snuffling the plastic nipple, looking confused as though she longed for the warmth of her mother’s breast. It was the first of comforts the girl would lose in the quest to better their world- Rodolphus made a foolish promise with himself he knew he couldn’t keep. But he swore his little girl would want for nothing and know nothing but love.

“Sed partus in sanguine alieno. Purissimum ac per sanguinem. tuta fatis antiqua stirpe.”

A glowing cerulean light surrounded the four, the little girl obediently continuing to drink despite her eyes that were now wrenched open in awe at the scene in front of her. With an explosion of light as the Lestranges finished the chant a seventh time, the infant fell limp in Rodolphus’ arms, mouth going lax and dropping the almost empty bottle into Narcissa’s small hand.

“She will wake up once her body has reconciled the change. Don’t be alarmed if she develops a new coloring in a few hours, that is perfectly normal. Yaxley will be over in the morning to get the necessary paperwork sorted out,” Thaddeus said, eyes gleaming with the proud look of a mad scientist whose experiment has gone perfectly.

“Send word when the girl is awake, I should like to see her.” said the Dark Lord before apparating with a loud crack. 

Rodolphus held the girl infinitesimally tighter to his chest, moving towards the Floo.

“Narcissa, I’ll surely be in touch tomorrow with some questions. Would you mind terribly if a few of our elves popped over here for supplies before the shops open tomorrow morning?”

The woman gracefully moved towards the pair, eyes focused on the baby in her brother-in-law’s arms.

“Of course, I’ll have Draco’s nanny elf prepare a basket now and head over.”

“Thank you, Cissy,” he said, bending down to kiss the woman’s soft alabaster cheek. She laid a soft hand on the girl’s tiny forehead, stroking an emerald green nail down her face in reverence. Her eyes held the words she did not dare speak in front of those who were not family- Rodolphus knew it was only a short time before they reconvened at Lestrange Manor.

Despite knowing the girl was out like a light, Rodolphus moved quietly into the floo before stepping back into his study as the tight wards only allowed him to do.

“Gildy,” the man said immediately, the Lestrange’s head elf immediately popping into the room despite wearing a lilac sleeping sack and bonnet.

“Master Roddy, Gildy is here to help,” croaked the half-asleep elf robotically, huge eyes opening wider at the sight of the baby. Elves _loved_ babies.

Rodolphus played around with the explanation he’d surely give countless times in the days ahead, figuring that less information was certainly better in the situation he now found himself in. 

Despite the Wizengamot’s approval of the measure and creation of a Muggleborn Registration Commission, there were those who were weary. Rodolphus understood their concerns, though he kept them to himself. It was difficult to imagine the application of a law that said once a muggleborn child was recognized, the Ministry of Magic could go in, extract them from the only life they’ve ever known, and erase the memory of their loved ones. It was fucking bonkers. 

On top of that, there was the backlash of the muggleborns in their society who had to make the decision of obliviating their close family members or undergoing obliviation and leaving their society themselves. It was abrupt, cried a large portion of their population, it was wrong. Yet, all but a dozen muggleborns had their families obliviated. Magic was indeed mightier than anything muggle.

Dumbledore had went toe-to-toe with the minister on behalf of his students, leading to their family's immunity until graduation. In true Abraxas fashion, the win was nothing but a win on the surface. The muggleborns at Hogwarts were made to stay with wizarding families over their summers until their graduation, cutting off their connection from the muggle world indefinitely. It would give those at Hogwarts the chance to see that their world was better for them, and the loss of their muggle family members that they'd 

Rodolphus steeled himself. He, and his daughter by proxy, were now the poster-children of the Ministry’s newest undertaking. It was his duty to sell his belief in the process, both publicly and privately.

“This is my daughter, Gildy. I apologize but wake the prudent elves and prepare a suite for her. You also must ensure the manor has necessary supplies for a four-month-old. The Malfoy elves are preparing a basket and have any supplies you might need before the shops open, please be sure to send an elf over there.”

Gildy’s excitement grew at the prospect of having more than just three grown men to take care of -and a she-devil to avoid- nodding rapidly at the man’s instructions. 

“Oh yes, Gildy will, Master Roddy. We elves is proud to raise another perfect Lestrange baby! A girl! Oh, thank you Master, we is so grateful.” 

Rodolphus gave the sweet creature a tight-lipped smile and a nod, Gildy disappearing. He was glad the elves quarters were on the other side of the manor as he was sure their excited cheers would wake even the strongest of spell-induced rests.

The Lestrange patriarch sat behind his desk gently, using his foot to rhythmically move the chair right and left to soothe the baby. 

“Welcome to this crazy world, sweetheart,” Rodolphus said quietly, his throat feeling uncharacteristically dry. “You’ll want for nothing and I’ll protect you from everything and everyone. This I vow."

A light golden light settled where Rodolphus’ hands cradled the girl, the waves slowly settling into the baby’s skin. It was the first of many promises he would surely make to the girl, and it was one he would risk his life to uphold. Hell nor high water, his wife nor the Dark Lord nor Albus Dumbledore would harm a head on his heir’s head.

A soft knock sounded on the door to the study, Rabastan peeking his head in a moment later.

“We have guests, brother.” The younger Lestrange let himself in, followed by Regulus, the Malfoys, and Severus Snape. 

As the group sat down, a young elf popped in.

"Master, we is having a Mr. Roll here."

The elf stuttered over the name, but Rodolphus already knew who it was. He just wondered why he was there.

“Rowle, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Rodolphus asked when the man was shown in minutes later, finding it easy to maintain his aloof persona even with a baby cradled in his well-muscled arms.

The seven-foot tall man stood up straight, a concerned look on his handsome face. He was said to be descended from Norse Gods, his distant relatives some Viking of note. He’d joined their forces from Norway, an esteemed and ancient European pure-blood family looking to reshape the Wizarding world. 

“Lestrange, I apologize for intruding at such a late hour and mean no offense. I just wish to warn you of what I’ve heard. My family is not from here, we have no part to play in squabbles not set to bring our kind into power once more. Weeks ago, while at the Withering Whistle in Knockturn I overheard Madam Lestrange telling someone she plans for any and all children taken via blood rite to suffer accidents. I worry your child is in danger, even if she is your wife.”

The man, though he stood almost a foot taller and wider than all of those in the room, looked as though he expected to get hexed at the insinuation that Bellatrix was a crazy and bloodthirsty bint. He would find no surprise or opposition from those in the study.

“I am most grateful that you overheard this conversation and felt prudent to share, Rowle. I will certainly take this into consideration as we welcome my daughter to the manor,” Rodolphus said, allowing a slight warmth into his tone as he made eye contact with the man. 

“It is my duty- children are sacred, and daughters are to be cherished above all else. In the tradition of my people, I pledge my word and magic that I will protect your daughter from harm and my kin will do the same. Do you acknowledge and accept the protection of the Rowles?” 

Rabastan’s eyes widened and met Regulus’, the Black reaching down to squeeze his partner’s hand. Hope flooded the pair, fear of Bellatrix’s wrath abating slightly at the words of a man they barely knew and did not count one of their own. 

“House Lestrange acknowledges and accepts the protection of House Rowle, placing the Lestrange heir's safety above all else. So mote it be.” 

Rodolphus clasped hands with Jorund Rowle, a gold strand weaving around the pair to once again gently settle under his daughter’s skin.

“I will be in touch. My son, Thorfinn, is almost four. Perhaps they’ll be friends one day,” Jorund said with a smile, giant hand reaching out to touch the baby as though she was made of glass. 

“Thank you. Once she’s settled I’ll be sure to set up a time for tea,” Rodolphus said, once more taking on the duties of a House’s Lady that Bellatrix ignores. 

The man stepped into the Floo, shouting Rowle Tower before leaving Rodolphus’ inner circle.

“Well,” Lucius drawled, taking a seat on a leather chair in front of Rodolphus’ desk and gently pulling his wife onto his lap. “That was unexpected.”

“Bellatrix’s killer tendencies, not quite. Rowle’s pledge of allegiance, indeed.” Said Severus Snape. The man was Rabastan and Regulus’ closest confidant, a valued member of the inner circle despite his young age and decidedly unfortunate upbringing.

“This little girl has the power to bring together all of the Wizarding world,” Narcissa said solemnly, eyes glued to Rodolphus’. “We must all pledge our protection and duty to ensure she is brought up properly in our world.”

“I am grateful. Narcissa, I’d be honored if you’d be her Godmother. It’s safe to say that my wife will be nothing of a mother to her, and I’d like her to grow up knowing the love of one.” 

The beautiful woman smiled radiantly, her eyes wet in a way she’d only ever allow those closest to her to see. She moved over to behind the desk, kneeling gracefully and placing a hand over the baby’s heart. 

“It will be as though she is my own- I’ve always wanted a daughter to spoil and nurture. The Lestrange heir will be my daughter to love, cherish, teach and protect, by the grace of the fates- this I swear as Godmother.”

“Lucius, I would be honored for you to be her Godfather. She has much to learn to bring her into our world, as do all children, and I trust no one more to ensure she is fully integrated and protected.”

The blond man smiled thinly, standing up from his chair and walking over to kneel, pressing a soft kiss to his beloved wife’s cheek. He placed his hand on the child next to his wife’s. 

“On my magic, I will raise the Lestrange heir as though she were my own, protect her, and guard her honor and virtue as a father and as her Godfather, teach and discipline her alongside Draco and ensure she wants for nothing. This I swear as her Godfather.”

“House Lestrange acknowledges and accepts the protection of House Malfoy, placing the Lestrange heir's safety above all else. So mote it be.” 

For the fourth time since they entered the room, a gold light settled into the girl’s chest.

“As the beloved and favorite uncle of the Lestrange heir, I pledge my magic to defend our princess’ honor, protect her from all threats, raise her knowing the ways of our ancient family, and ensure she wants for nothing. By the grace of the fates and the Lestrange line- this I swear as her uncle,” said Rabastan, having moved around the table to place a hand on his niece’s cheek. 

“As Lestrange paterfamilias, I acknowledge and accepts the protection of the House spare, placing our heir's safety above all else. So mote it be.” 

Both Severus and Regulus made their way to kneel before the infant, making quite a sight if anyone were to see. 

“As the true favorite uncle of the Lestrange heir, I pledge to bring joy to her life, attempt to ensure she knows nothing of the bigotry and hatred that claims our kind, defend her honor and protect against those who wish to harm her, and ensure she wants for nothing. By the power vested in the most ancient and noble House of Black- this I swear as her uncle,” said Regulus after placing a hand on her other baby soft cheek.

“House Lestrange acknowledges and accepts the protection of the most ancient and noble House of Black, placing the Lestrange heir's safety above all else. So mote it be.” 

“As the appointed uncle of the Lestrange heir, I pledge to educate her on all things easily known and difficult to learn, defend her honor against all threats, including foolish Hogwarts boys, protect her against those who wish to harm her, and ensure she wants for nothing. By the fates- this I swear as her uncle,” said Severus, hand placed over her tiny feet.

“House Lestrange acknowledges and accepts the protection of Severus Snape, last of House Prince, placing the Lestrange heir's safety above all else. So mote it be.” 

One last gold light settled into her sternum, the huddle of humanity causing an outpouring of warm magic to settle evenly among the group.

“Her birth mother’s name was Helen. Her father was Richard. Helen of Troy is said to have had one child, Hermione. A little girl who was heartbroken when her mom sailed away and left her to fend for herself. May we change the trajectory for our own Hermione."

“Hermione Theia Lestrange,” Rodolphus murmured, his kneeling family members smiling. “Mother of the Sun, Theia, goddess of many names, thanks to thee men ascribe to gold a strength exceeding all other powers.”

“Our little golden princess, Hermione Theia,” Rabastan whispered, awe on his face as he took in the girl.

“A princess indeed,” Lucius said, the eldest man standing up and shaking the group from their reverie after a few minutes. 

“Roddy, I’ll be over in the morning.” Narcissa said, bending over to kiss the man’s cheek and brush Hermione’s soft hair back.

The Malfoys, Severus and Regulus left, leaving only the three Lestranges in the study.

“And then there were three,” Rabastan said with a small smirk, perching himself on Rodolphus’ desk.

Gildy took that moment to pop into the room quietly, two other elves with her. They all looked prouder than either Lestrange man had seen, a manic gleam in their eyes despite the late hour.

“Gildy has help from Pippet and Ruthy to take care of our little mistress. We make the mistress suite into a beautiful room for our princess. Master Roddy can choose colors tomorrow.”

“This is Hermione Theia,” Rodolphus said, pressing a kiss to the girl’s forehead before handing her to the elf. “Please get her ready to sleep, and I’ll be there shortly.” 

The trio of elves let out simultaneous coos when the baby was placed into Gildy’s arms, the old elf acting as though she hadn’t raised the two men standing in front of her.

“Gildy, you act as though you haven’t ever raised a baby,” Rabastan noted drolly as he stared fondly at the elf.

The elf in question sniffed imperiously, “Gildy has never raised a princess. She raises many boys. Little miss is special.”

“Little Miss is perfect,” agreed Pippet, awe on the little elf’s face as she stared at the first Lestrange female by blood in seven generations.

“We see Master Roddy soon. But not too soon, Lestrange elves can take care of little miss,” Gildy stated in what felt like a warning to the older man, and he watched as the three elves walked out the door with his daughter towards his suite of rooms.

“You’d think Gildy would get less terrifying the older we get,” Rabastan remarked with a shake of his head. 

“No one keeps me on my toes like her,” Rodolphus agreed, letting it go unsaid that she was likely to win in a toe to toe match up with the Dark Lord himself.

Rabastan let out a small laugh while taking out his wand and throwing up wards on the door.

“What are we going to do, Dolph?” The younger brother asked quietly, concern gleaming in his bright blue eyes. The men looked similar, both with golden brown hair and blue eyes. Their skin was sun kissed year round, a trait they appreciated in gloomy England. Rabastan was classically handsome with his longer hair and lithely muscled frame. Rodolphus was taller by a few inches, though his brother stood at six foot himself. The older man had more thickly corded muscle, a testament to the exercise routine that he’d now have to rethink with a baby in the house.

"We're going to raise our heir and keep her the hell away from my wife," Rodolphus replied. Despite a shared place at the Dark Lord's table, the older man was prone to shielding his younger brother from the horrors of the world and, more specifically, his wife. 

"Do you really believe you'll be able to do that? She's going to have to pretend to care for the girl in social settings and will certainly have something to say about you adopting a daughter without her knowledge." 

Rodolphus tipped his head in understanding, "Yes, but you're also underestimating her submission to the Dark Lord's will. We were handpicked to spearhead this effort, and she won't jeopardize her place at the Dark Lord's right hand."

"Brother, I know you're smarter than to underestimate Bella. How are we supposed to sleep at night knowing Hermione could be killed or tortured whenever your batshit wife is looking for a little fun?"

"Despite Dumbledore's beliefs, not all Slytherins are sorted due to bloodthirsty tendencies," Rodolphus then called for all the elves, a trick he learned from his mother's excessive gala hosting when he was a child.

The additional 28 Lestrange elves popped into the study with an additional elf that neither brother noticed, the creatures small enough to not be crammed in the room. All 60 golf ball-sized eyes were wide with anticipation despite the abrupt wake up call.

"Gildy, please go watch over Hermione," Rabastan said decisively. The head elf apparated with a pop.

"As Lestrange elves, it is your duty above all else is to protect the Lestrange family line and upkeep our home. Tomorrow you will have the chance to meet my daughter, Hermione. As of today, you will make it your duty above all else to guard her life against harm. My wife is not a Lestrange by blood and is to be treated as any other stranger and threat- that is an order. Do you understand?" 

The elves all nodded.

"Us elves will protect the precious mistress baby!" piped up Gemmy, the head kitchen elf. There was a quiet roar of agreement among the elves, Rodolphus giving a quiet thank you and letting them know, no, they did not need tea or biscuits, before the brothers were left alone again.

"Well, brother. You're a lot smarter than your wife gives you credit for," Rabastan said as he hopped off the finally carved mahogany desk.

"Let's hope that means something in the days ahead," Rodolphus muttered, standing up from his leather desk chair. 

"Goodnight brother. Reg and I will be in our room if you need anything," the younger man said with a tight lipped smile. Regulus had moved into the manor three years ago after the pair had graduated from Hogwarts, having no desire to live with his wretched mother at Grimmauld Place, not that either brother could blame him. The woman was an absolute terror on a good day, and that was without the addition of knowing her son was going to marry another man and leave the House of Black in Sirius' incapable hands.

Feeling older than his 23 years, Rodolphus made his way into the mistress suite where Gildy stood watch over the baby sleeping in the same crib that has held over 10 generations of Lestrange children.

"Gildy, you can go for the evening. Please come to my study after breakfast to discuss what needs to be done," Rodolphus said. 

The elf nodded, a look of unrestrained longing on her face as she stared at the sleeping baby. 

"Gildy is leaving a warm bottle of milk for precious little mistress here. Mistress will want her mother's milk, but Gildy cannot help. She will be sad, but she must learn to like cow milk," the elf said, looking at the man as if she expected him to lash out over something neither of them can change.

The man gave a nod of assent, knowing there was nothing to be said for the fucked up situation this baby, his baby, found herself in.

He settled into the surprisingly comfortable rocking chair in the corner of the room, quietly impressed with the fact that the elves had quickly transformed the room into one fit for a princess, lilac paint on the walls and varying shades of purple and white furniture in the large room. 

Traditionally, the mistress suite was used for Lestrange wives to have privacy, but Rodolphus put his foot down at his arranged marriage with Bellatrix Black Lestrange. The woman lived on the opposite side of the stately manor in the west wing, as far away from the Lestrange brothers as possible. In addition to giving him peace of mind knowing he wasn't going to get murdered by a mad woman in his sleep, it allowed him to protect the wing with blood wards so he knew when she was coming and going. 

Roldolphus was consumed by a whirlwind of what ifs as he thought about his daughter's future, wondering morbidly if she'd even live past tomorrow. He wasn't an emotional man. He was the product of generations of apathetic men, raised as a typical pureblood male whose sole purpose was to perpetuate his bloodline and line the family Gringott's vault, but he felt choked up as he thought about the life that was now in his hands.

As if she could sense his distress, Hermione started to sniffle sadly, lips making the same sucking motion that, until a few hours ago, was surely followed by a relieving trip to her mother’s breast. The man hoped the habit of bottle feeding was one she picked up quickly because he couldn’t stand the saddened confusion that he’d now seen on the girl’s face twice.

He held out a hand, wordlessly summoning the warm bottle that Gildy had left. Operating on assumptions, he guessed the girl was hungry since she’d made the same face earlier.

“Here you are Hermione,” Rodolphus crooned, trying to maneuver the nipple into her little mouth without shoving it halfway down her throat. No one told him that babies were tiny, breakable little things. She latched quickly, snuffling away with a furrowed look on her brow as though she was wondering what the hell was in her mouth. Thankfully, her eyes stayed closed as she drank.

Her mouth went lax shortly after, her body still and relaxed as she fell once more into a deep sleep. Rodolphus followed her into the land of dreams shortly after, rocking his daughter to sleep for the first time.

\---

It took two days for Bellatrix to care enough to confront Rodolphus about the fact that she was now, for all intents and purposes, a mother.

The elves were enamored with their newest charge and blinked out of sight with her the moment that the wards rippled with the woman’s attempted entry.

Rodolphus had no idea where they went, but he was more than happy to get her away from whatever was about to occur. With a lazy flick of his hand, he let the wards down to allow Bellatrix entry to his wing, taking a seat on a leather couch in the front living room.

“Hello husband. Where’s the ickle mudblood?” Bellatrix said, eyes wide and crazed as though she expected the baby to pop out from the ceiling.

“She’s with the elves,” Rodolphus said. He knew it wasn’t worth arguing that Hermione was just as much of a pure-blood as she was.

“Well, aren’t you going to let me see her?” Bellatrix questioned with a pout and tilt of her head. The expression made her look like some sort of deranged dog and did not go far in endearing Rodolphus to her motives.

“She’s sleeping, but I’ll bring her to dinner and you’ll be able to meet her there,” he said, leaving it unspoken that Regulus, Rabastan, and the Malfoys would be there for backup as soon as things inevitably went sour.

The woman let out a scoff, turning around and leaving the wing without another word. As soon as her greasy mane was out of sight, Rodolphus reset the wards. It was going to be a long night.

\---

“Oh look,” Narcissa exclaimed with a delighted coo. “Draco likes her already.”

The two little ones were lain in a large bassinet, the blond boy rolling over immediately to stare at Hermione who was slowly blinking. Much to Rodolphus’ relief, her eyes were the bright blue that stamped her as a Lestrange when she woke up after the adoption ceremony. It was disconcerting to watch her features change, her dark hair turning the same golden brown as her father’s and her bones subtly shrinking in size. With that alarming change, Rodolphus had started to look through familial records, discovering that Larita Lestrange, the line’s last born daughter, was a tiny thing, barely reaching five feet at her full height. It was with that change that he knew he’d always have a niggling question in the back of his mind- who would Jean Granger have been if not for interference?

“How darling,” a shrill voice drawled. “Letting your only son touch a mudblood, sister? I would think you’d know about the diseases they carry.”

“Draco is touching a pure-blood, sister,” Narcissa replied in a saccharinely sweet tone. Rodolphus and Lucius instinctively moved in front of the two infants, cutting off Bellatrix’s view.

The woman let out a sharp cackle, and Hermione immediately began to cry at the noise. Before any of the adults could pick her up, Draco clumsily wrapped his arms around the small girl and began to make cooing noises into her hair. It astonished all of the adults present that the girl quieted rather quickly.

“Lucius, I’m sure your father will find this all… rather interesting,” Bellatrix said with a small smirk.

In true Malfoy fashion, the man leveled his sister-in-law with a glare. “You just missed the minister, truly a pity. He believes that Hermione’s adaptation to her new life is a sign of the success of the Dark Lord’s new endeavor.”

The woman, for all her bluster, was not quick on her feet when it came to verbal retorts. She let out a hiss in lieu of a reply.

Gemmy stepped into the dining room quietly, letting her master know that dinner was ready. At his grateful nod, a team of elves brought the first dish out to the table, a bubbling french onion soup.

In true pure-blood fashion, the group made their way to the table, Rodolphus and Lucius pulling out their wives’ seats before taking a seat, the Lestrange at the head of the table.

“In celebration of our goddaughter, please accept this bottle of Château d'Yquem 1811 from Narcissa and myself,” Lucius said, snapping his fingers before his personal elf appeared with the bottle in hand.

Regulus let out a low whistle while the others kept their reactions to the Malfoys gift of the most expensive wine in the world to themselves.

“I’ll stick to whiskey,” Bellatrix stated sharply, snapping her fingers impatiently before an elf scurried up with a decanter and a glass. Defying the rules of social etiquette, she demanded her glass be filled to the brim, rather than a two finger pour.

Unfortunately, everyone at the table was used to having a stock silent seven-course meal when Bella was present. The years had left them all with the understanding that the sound of scraping forks was better than having to discuss whatever was on the mad woman’s mind. Rodolphus was amused by his thought midway through the main course of a salmon filet with chimichurri, when he realized that neither baby had made a noise through the dinner. It was a balm to his worry about his daughter’s relationship with Bellatrix as she grew up. The fireworks were inevitable.

He’d deal with it when he had to. But for now, he’d enjoy her infancy- Narcissa did say that the days flew by faster than you could imagine. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This took me forever and a half- I unfortunately work an insane job that takes up most of my time. There are certainly errors here, but I hope you enjoy! Please let me know any inconsistencies you find - I'm going to go back and edit the first chapter for canon mistakes and other errors I've found rereading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note after receiving some comments: this is not a black and white fic- just like in the books, Dumbledore will not being all “good.” Things will get slightly dark, there are motives behind both his and Voldemort’s actions that motivate their allies and further their goals! There is nuance in everything!
> 
> This is the first of two pre-Hogwarts chapters. There is a lot of world-building here, but mostly little Hermione fluff! Next chapter is where we get into the nitty gritty, including the return of Bellatrix, the first interactions with Dumbledore, a complex Tom Riddle, and some young Hermione POV. Woohoo! 
> 
> Please comment and let me know your thoughts! :)

**March 23, 1980**

“How’s she going to learn to walk if you won’t let her down, brother?” Rabastan asked quietly as Rodolphus cradled Hermione in one arm. She let out little giggles as she stared up adoringly at her father who was conjuring bubbles wandlessly.

“Babies don’t walk until they’re at least nine months old,” Rodolphus replied, not quite answering his brother’s question. If he didn’t want to let the girl down, it was his right.

“When will she crawl?” Regulus asked from where his head was laid in Rabastan’s lap, smiling softly at the baby’s happy expression.

“Any time now. Ruthy said she’s been wiggling around more than normal the past few days.”

“Can we put her on the floor to see for ourselves?” Rabastan asked with puppy dog eyes. The man was endlessly intrigued with the little girl, never having been close enough to a child to see the small ways they changed and grew every day. Rodolphus tried not to be disturbed that his brother treated Hermione more like a science experiment than a niece at this point in her life.

“Not sure why you want to ruin her fun to have some of your own, but why not,” Rodolphus said, placing Hermione on the floor and then moved a few steps back before squatting down.

“Come here, sweet pea,” the man crooned, hands reached forward invitingly.  
Hermione looked at him like she’d been left on a desert island rather than mere steps away, face scrunching up in the telltale sign of a tantrum. The girl was a happy baby for the most part, but was prone to throwing fit when she was separated from her favorite people.

Rodolphus was amused every time he saw Severus and Lucius fawning over his little girl, the two aloof men nothing more than mere servants in her presence.

Much to the Lestrange elves’ joy, their perfect little miss loved to play with them and found their displays of wandless magic mesmerizing. Her comfortability in their presence was a relief to Rodolphus, who felt at ease leaving Hermione with the elves while he did the work of a husband and wife.

“C’mere, darling,” Rabastan cooed, him and Regulus now on the ground making grabby hands towards the infant. The curly haired girl stayed on her belly, looking between the three men with a confused pout on her face. Rodolphus started to stand, wanting to grab her before the water works began when a small pop echoed through the sitting room. Ruthy stood by the man’s right side, shorter than him even as he squatted down.

Before the elf could even announce that it was time for Hermione to drink her bottle, the little girl let out a happy noise and, to the shock of those who’d watched her sit stationary for five minute straight, crawled clumsily to the elf with her eyes on her dinner.

Ruthy let out a squeal, “Oh, precious little miss crawls! Ruthy’s little miss is so smart.”

The elf bent down to hand Rodolphus the bottle, and he used his free arm to scoop up his wriggling daughter. As he fed her, he noted that the chapters on discipline and health boundaries in the muggle parenting books Narcissa shared were full of it- bribes worked.

**June 7, 1980**

Rodolphus couldn’t remember a time where he’d ever cried. When alive, Merlin bless her soul, his mum told him that he was an easy baby that had never cried. He was crying now, though.

From top to bottom, left to right, his life was a mess. Starting with the fact that his wife was a lunatic hellbent on killing his daughter, the fact that he even had a daughter, the intrusive presence of both Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle, and, most of all, teeth.

How was it that wizards hadn’t discovered a potion or spell to counteract the pain that infants felt when their teeth started to come in. The muggle books he read said that teeth started coming in around six months, which led to a series of panicked floo calls to Malfoy Manor. Where were Hermione’s teeth? Why wasn’t she speaking? Did the muggles do something to stymy her growth?

As she did with her own husband, Narcissa talked him off the ledge. Their last conversation took place at Draco’s first birthday party two days prior, an extravagant affair that catered more to the adults in attendance than a one year old who didn’t have an inkling of understanding as to what was occurring. The only two parts of the day that the boy seemed to care about were his elegant blue and white cake and Hermione’s presence. With a spoiled spirit that rivaled his father’s, the boy would scream his own iteration of the girl’s name, currently “Huh,” which was his first word, until someone brought her near.

Rodolphus was not ashamed to say he was protective of his daughter and never let her out of his sight unless she was with her nanny elves in the warded safety of the manor. But at the party, he was all too happy to let Narcissa carry his baby around as she held court with those in their social circle, but remained close enough to the birthday boy to quell his tears.

But today? Today was hell. He’d take a conversation with every Lovegood in the damn world over helplessly listening to his baby scream as her first tooth popped into existence. It left Rodolphus raging, wondering why baby teeth existed if they were going to cause more pain when they fell out in a few short years?

He would feel guilty later over the way he snapped at Gildy, currently focused on holding the cold compress to Hermione’s gums.

“There you are, sweetheart,” Rodolphus cooed sympathetically. He was helpless to the tears that continued to well up in his eyes at his baby’s sad whimpers, her eyes wide as she looked to him as if to ask for help. The man hummed a tune as he rocked her in his arms, hoping she’d fall asleep sometime soon.

He’d always been something of a feeler- the memory of seeing his father’s owl eat a tiny mouse was forever ingrained in his mind. All it took was one tear to fall before the man whipped him with a belt the muggle way. His mum would nurture his emotional side in private, rocking him on her lap and crooning soothing words to her ‘sweet boy’ until the day he left for Hogwarts.

Even at Hogwarts, he was unwilling to partake in the often cruel and humiliating acts of bullying that his fellow Slytherins thrived on. Instead, he focused on his studies and ensuring Rabastan was safe and happy.

It didn’t take long to figure out that he was quite skilled at transfiguration, turning a needle into a chalice with ease his first week. Professor McGonagall took him under her wing, any hesitance that he expected from the Gryffindor was not there. Her mentorship gave him an excuse to stay far away from his classmates outside of a few he considered to be his friends.

As he stood there rocking his baby, he wondered what his favorite professor would think of the way his life had turned out. She’d raised hell at the notion that he was to mind his home and live a life of investing and social gatherings- outside of his mother, the stern Gryffindor was the only person to ever think he was worth more than the life he’d been given. Looking at Hermione’s flushed, red face, he made a silent promise to never confine her to a life full of expectations.

**October 31, 1981**

Although he didn’t have any experience raising a child, Rodolphus was certain that his daughter was perfect. She rarely cried, had a voracious appetite and adventurous palate, was extremely inquisitive and, most importantly, absolutely adored her father.

Rodolphus would never get sick of the way that Hermione always wanted to be near him or in his arms. If he wasn’t carrying her she was holding his hand, if she wasn’t holding his hand then she had a tiny fist curled up in his robes.

But today, at the worst possible moment, she threw the tantrum to end all tantrums. In a perverse distortion of muggle tradition, Voldemort had his followers bring their children to a morning meeting. While the children didn’t wear muggle costumes, there were elves stationed around the outskirts of the room handing out chocolate frogs, fizzing whizbees and other delicacies. Rodolphus knew he’d just end up taking them from Hermione, the girl too young to eat anything that was on offer. It was their Lord’s thought that counted, though, right?

Shortly after Voldemort opened the meeting of his inner circle, Hermione seized up on Rodolphus’ lap for a few moments before letting out a sustained shriek. The sound was one that he’d never heard from her, and he found himself paralyzed with shock. It was one of those moments that he’d always judged other parents for, muttering to himself about how parents should control their children better.

Those who knew Hermione, which was a majority of the inner circle, looked extremely concerned at the noise.

The baby attempted to heft herself off of her dad’s lap, almost falling as she tried to propel her way down to the ground. Rodolphus put her down gently, his heart seizing as she toddled over to the head of the table while hyperventilating. Rodolphus trailed after her, quickly picking her up when he realized she was making as if to climb up Lord Voldemort’s lap.

The man was looking at her with thinly veiled annoyance, a marked difference from his usual fondness for Hermione.

“Get her the bloody hell out of here,” Bellatrix spat, rolling her eyes as if she was discussing a roach and not her own technical daughter.

For once, Rodolphus agreed with his wife, despite her tone and apathy. As he turned to leave, Hermione’s screams picked up once more, but this time, she choked out words while holding a tiny hand towards Lord Voldemort.

“Red baby guh-one,” she warbled, her eyes set intently on the attractive, dark-haired man as if imploring him to understand her.

“Everyone but Abraxas is dismissed,” Voldemort said with a flick of his hand, stone-faced. The room cleared quickly, but not without a scoff from Bellatrix.

“Come here, Hermione,” the man crooned, holding his arms open for Rodolphus’ little girl. If not for Rodolphus’ hold on her, she would’ve flung herself across the room, still muttering about a red baby.

Once in Voldemort’s arms, she started patting the man’s face as tears flowed down a face that was too young to look so grave.

“No go, red baby guh-one,” she said, standing on the terrifying man’s thighs to make eye contact as though he were one of her fun-loving uncles.

“Don’t go tonight?” her future professor asked, as if it was normal to have an adult conversation with a toddler.

“No go, bad santa red baby guh-one,” Hermione said with the seriousness of a potions apprentice presenting to their mastery board. Her speech was slurred and her words were slow, but Voldemort looked as though he had seen something extraordinary.

In a less serious moment Rodolphus would’ve laughed at his daughter’s understanding of Santa, Rabastan and Regulus having picked up a muggle book on the holiday that she absolutely adored.

“What do you see happening to me tonight, sweet Hermione?” The man asked, his voice as gentle as it could be, which wasn’t all that gentle.

Hermione shook her head rapidly.

“Bad santa put ‘cle Tom nana,” she said seriously.

“Nana is what she calls her bedtime,” Rodolphus interjected quietly.

“Does the bad man take the baby with him after putting Uncle Tom to sleep, Hermione,” Abraxas asked slowly.

The little girl nodded, letting out a sob that Rodolphus took as relief for being understood. “No go, ‘cle Tom.”

Sharing a look with Abraxas, Lord Voldemort nodded at the child on his lap.

“I will stay home, little girl.”

Hermione hugged the man tightly, the normally stoic man reciprocating and holding her close in his arms. It took moments for the girl to fall asleep, clearly wiped out from whatever the hell had just occurred.

“What just happened?” Rodolphus asked, uncharacteristically asking a question he didn’t want to know the answer to.

“Your daughter just changed my plans for the evening and perhaps even saved my life,” the man said, his eyes on the tiny girl he was awkwardly cradling in his arms.

“She has the Sight,” Abraxas said, awe evident in his voice.

“That’s ludicrous. How can you be sure?” Rodolphus asked quietly, his voice cracking.

Flicking his hand lazily at the door and muttering a silencing charm, Tom spoke. “Tonight, I was going to Godric’s Hollow to meet with James and Lily Potter. Lily has been an ally as we seek to move changes through the Wizengamot. I was looking to ask for her partnership in hopes of instituting classes on wizarding history at Hogwarts. She was one of Dumbledore’s pets- he’d be hard-pressed to say no when such a progressive idea is coming from one he holds dear.”

“You mean, bad santa…” Abraxas said, horrified as he put the pieces together.

“The Potters welcomed their second child, a beautiful girl, Dorea, earlier this year. Her red hair is the same color as her mother’s.”

Rodolphus’ mind was racing at both the implication of his daughter being a Seer and Dumbledore blatantly attempting to kill Voldemort and steal a baby in one evening.

“What do we do, my Lord?” Abraxas asked, the minister looking suitably miffed.

“I’m suddenly feeling under the weather and will have to let the Potters know. I’ll need to borrow an owl,” said the Dark Lord.

“Of course, my Lord. My elves will provide parchment and a quill at once,” Abraxas responded, an elf quickly popping in with the proffered items.

Voldemort shot Rodolphus a calculating look, before holding Hermione out. The younger man grabbed her gently and held her tightly to his chest. Their world had been turned upside down in an instant.

“I expect no one will speak of what has occurred here tonight. In the morning, we’ll see what the Daily Prophet has to say,” Voldemort said, writing a note addressed to the Potters.

“Never to be spoken of, my Lord,” the minister answered, Rodolphus nodding curtly. It was his daughter’s life on the line, of course he would keep his mouth shut.

“Take young Hermione home to get some rest, Rodolphus. I will see you both here at ten tomorrow morning. Abraxas, I expect you’ll be tied up in… a quite unfortunate matter.”

Rodolphus flooed home quickly, sitting in a rocking chair where he held vigil for 14 hours. Hermione woke up as the sun rose, letting out a soft whimper.

The man stood immediately, taking her to her changing table. He almost bit through his lip as he got her ready for the day in a soft yellow dress, her soft, golden brown curls hanging loosely. Her hair had finally started to grow in earnest, almost reaching to her shoulders.

Regulus had morbidly joked that she looked like a product of Bellatrix and Rodolphus’ coupling with her curly hair and distinctive Lestrange features, and the dad wished he’d never gotten that image in his head. But Hermione could never be something that came from his wife- she was too good, too pure to have any inkling of that bitch.

“There’s my sleepy girl,” Rodolphus said in a sing-song voice as Hermione yawned and he shifted her to one hip. Quickly performing a teeth cleaning charm on her, he headed out of the nursery. Gearing up for a difficult conversation, he walked to the family dining room where Regulus and Rabastan were sat with concerned looks on their faces.

“What happened last night, brother?” Rabastan asked, holding his arms out for Hermione who gave him a beatific smile. Rodolphus begrudgingly dropped her into his arms.

“What I hope to be Hermione’s first and last temper tantrum,” the older brother said casually, not wanting to sound the alarm before seeing a fire.

“What was she muttering?” Regulus asked, his gray eyes looking intently at the Lestrange.

“Just babbling, the Dark Lord was gracious enough to give her space to calm down.”

“So respectful,” Rabastan cooed sarcastically at the little girl, poking her in the stomach to elicit melodic giggles.

Rodolphus was saved from further questions by the telltale scratching of an owl at the window, and he quickly exchanged a knut for the Daily Prophet. Emblazoned on the front page was a headline that made his heart sink.

**POTTER MANOR ATTACKED, INFANT KIDNAPPED**

The Lestrange patriarch sat down slowly, eyes open wide as he stared at the front page story.

_Aurors were called to Potter Manor just after 7pm last night, and walked into a gruesome scene. James Potter and his son, one year-old Harry, were found in the home’s formal dining room alongside Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Father and son were sprawled on the floor, while the beloved Headmaster was laid out with a bleeding head injury. The story only gets worse, as aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and Fabian Prewett made their way up the stairs to find Lily Potter out cold on the floor of her daughter’s nursery. But, dear readers, the crib was empty. Once awake, Mrs. Potter shared her account with aurors through her gasping tears: a man in a black robe stole 4-month-old Dorea Potter from her crib. The Prophet is told that DMLE is on the case and committed to finding the innocent babe as quickly as possible. The Minister of Magic will hold a press conference at 10am where we’ll also hear from Hogwarts Headmaster Dumbledore. As always, you can tune in to our WWN station, DPRF, for the latest updates. The Daily Prophet sends their deep condolences to the Potter family, and we trust our esteemed DMLE will find her soon._

Rodolphus’ mind was flooded with the implications of two separate but important things: the first being that his daughter was a Seer. Every pure-blood child grew up hearing bedtime stories about the mysticism of Seers, only to grow up and learn that they were coveted. And like most coveted prizes, they were hunted down and destroyed by people who wanted the prize all to themselves.

**July 5, 1983**

Though Hermione was the first child to undergo the ritual, she wasn’t the last. Many families were given a new member, though ages varied. It was curious to see how the previously muggleborn children’s magic manifested - his personal favorite story was of young Luna Lovegood, who floated out of her crib on a blanket as though it was a magic carpet. The Dark Lord was still laughing about that one.

There were families like the Peverells and Burkes who were obvious candidates for children as they were nearly wiped out and friends of the cause, but others that were a smart political move. Light families like the Bones got the daughter that they’d always wanted, while gray families including Xanthos Lovegood’s son and the Greengrasses were given daughters to carry on their family lines.

Rodolphus had spent many hours chuckling at the tizzy that his fellow Sacred 28 patriarchs found themselves in as more little girls than they’d seen in over a thousand years joined their ranks. Most pure families were granted one son per coupling, so an injection of girls to keep from sullying their lines was Christmas come early.

The man accepted an invitation to dinner when asked, and wished he had far fewer requests so he could at least be happy over getting a free meal when having to discuss his baby girl’s future. Whether it was Zabini or Goyle -as if- or Nott or McLaggen or Pucey, the answer was always no. His answer was always that he would mull over the contract, rolling his eyes at the promises of galleons, unicorns, wineries or whatever rot he was offered, but the truth was much simpler. Hermione had had every choice ripped away from her when she was brought into the wizarding world at infancy instead of eleven: he wouldn’t take another choice away from her.

If Rodolphus learned anything over the past few years of fatherhood and potential matchmaking, it was that being a parent was enough to drive anyone spare. He always thought his demise would come at the wrong end of Bella’s wand, but now there were so many unknown variables.

Like the day Narcissa suggested that Hermione make friends with other girls. That was a day he’ll regret for the rest of his life.

But when Hermione was smiling in the face of a beautiful summer’s day, he knew that it was all worth it.

Her first playdate, it’s a get-together, Rodolphus, playdate sounds so pedestrian, Narcissa had scoffed, was a fucking disaster. Poseidon Parkinson was a pompous little fuck, and only Rabastan’s hand on his shoulder kept him from knocking the man out daily. He could be found bragging to anyone wizard with a pulse about how he had a wife who gave birth to his pure-blood daughter.

Why Rodolphus thought this was the best first playdate for Hermione escaped him. The little girl had given him a look of indignance that looked extremely out of place on her tiny features when he had let her know.

“Daddy, Pansy Parkinson is not my friend,” she said matter of factly.

“Why’s that, sweet pea? You haven’t met Pansy,” he said, trying to sound less amused than he was at his daughter’s know-it-all tone.

“Hermione is not friends with brown-haired girls when she’s this little,” she said, looking at him like he was a dunce.

Of all of the things that his father and grandfather had taught him, how to be a father was not one of them. He could balance a billion galleon Gringotts account without thinking, put on a twelve-course meal for a foreign dignitary with minimal stress, or perform a waltz that would impress the oldest and nastiest pure-blooded woman alive. But how was he supposed to teach and discipline a little girl who looked up at him with all-knowing little eyes?

“You can’t know that, Hermione. Pansy is going to come over and you’re going to show her the Lestrange manners that Gildy and Pippet are so pleased with. Right?” Rodolphus asked with the raise of an eyebrow.

“Right,” she muttered with what he swore was an eyeroll. Before he could question the defiant action, she held her arms up in askance. He was putty in her presence, and quickly cuddled her tiny form to his chest. What could possibly go wrong?

The floo had barely settled after Poseidon’s departure when the screaming started from down the hall- Hermione’s angry scream to be specific. Despite knowing that Gildy was in the room supervising the children, the man walked briskly down the hallway to Hermione’s playroom.

The four-year-olds were being separated by two elves, one of whom had a bow clipped to their ear. Rodolphus spared a quick thought for how uncomfortable he thought it might feel before putting on his responsible father hat.

“What is going on here, Hermione?” He asked, crouching down to a height that was only slightly higher than the two angry girls.

“Pansy is not Hermione’s friend, daddy! She hurt Ruthy!” Hermione said with a dramatic point at the elf that had a sequined bow on her large ear. The skin around the metal clip was slightly discolored, the silver sequins glaring shinily as her ears drooped.

“Ruthy is happy to play with little miss and her friend,” the elf said with a forced smile.

The pug-nosed little visitor said, “We was playing dress-up with my costumes! I always play at home.”

“We were,” Hermione glared as she corrected the girl’s grammar, “Not playing! I don’t hurt my friends. You have to go, Pansy.”

“I want to go home,” the girl said, tears filling her eyes. Rodolphus wasn’t affected by the tears, thinking offhandedly that the girl was nowhere near as cute as his Hermione. He couldn’t help but wonder how many families had come to Poseidon looking for a marriage contract, only to renege after seeing the girl.

Once the brat was in the capable hands of a Parkinson elf, Hermione turned to him with her arms crossed.

“Hermione told you so, daddy,” she said. And that was the end of Hermione’s first playdate.

At first he thought she referred to herself in third person after too much time spent with grammar-poor house elves, only for her to tell him that she knew the difference between points of view, and that Hermione was different- she was in control of the pictures in her mind. It took a few glasses of whiskey for him to truly understand what the girl was saying, and he realized that keeping her abilities a secret might completely ruin the girl for all social relationships.

The Dark Lord was surprisingly benevolent when it came to the baby girl who saved his life, not pressing for more tidbits on what was to come, but allowing her to truly live as a normal child. It inclined Rodolphus to trust the man more, which was a constant game of Russian roulette set to blow at any moment.

Much to the chagrin of other pure-blood men, only Hermione was given the right to call the Dark Lord ‘Uncle Tom,’ and only his darling Hermione was able to lord over meetings on the man’s lap. Snape and Regulus spent many nights laughing as they shared memories of both Bronson Bullstrode and Poseidon Parkinson’s twitching eyes as they watched the man blatantly favor another little girl over their own. As Rabastan eloquently put it, maybe next time they should have cuter daughters instead of inbred cows. Rodolphus couldn’t disagree with his brother’s logic.

**August 29, 1983**

Rodolphus, Rabastan and Regulus were at Gringott’s discussing the latter two’s upcoming soulbonding ceremony when Ruthy popped into Ragnok’s rather comfortable office.

The elf wrung her hands with a nervous look in her eyes, “Ruthy is so sorry to interrupt, but precious little miss is needing her uncles!”

“What are you going on about, Ruthy?” Rodolphus asked, standing up. The elf let out a squeak as the man stood up, almost three times the size of the elf’s small stature.

“She is making herself sick needing her uncles, Master! Gildy is saying Ruthy must get Masters Rabby and Reggie.”

“Ragnok, we’ll finish this later today,” Rabastan said, barely tipping his head towards the goblin who’d controlled the Lestrange and Black vaults for over 12 decades before apparating out.

Ruthy smiled squirrelly before popping out of existence, and Rodolphus let out a huff before doing the same. He hated nothing more than not knowing what was going on.

Rodolphus walked into Hermione’s playroom to see his brother and soon-to-be brother-in-law cradling Hermione between them on a rocking sofa, his sweet girl’s face red and covered in tears. She was letting out gasping noises that showed just how upset she was, barely able to get a breath in.

Getting down to his knees in front of her, Rodolphus gripped his daughter’s tiny hand.

“What’s wrong with my sweet pea?” he asked, voice rough.

“He-hermione suh-sees a bad future for her,” she sobbed, coating Regulus’ long black hair in her tears and snot. The two men holding his daughter took pause at the way Rodolphus stiffened.

“What do you mean, my darling?” Rabastan asked quietly, stroking her curly hair gently.

“Hermione, let’s go cool down,” Rodolphus said, making to pick up Hermione before she let out a screech.

“No, daddy! Hermione needs her Uncles Rabby and Reggie before they’re gone,” she said angrily, squeezing the men tightly.

“I didn’t know we were going anywhere, little love,” Regulus remarked quietly.

“Hermione Sees it, you’re leaving her forever,” she said with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“What’s going on, Rod?” Rabastan asked, his face pale.

Rodolphus shook his head helplessly, for once unable to play the calm and collected patriarch.

“Hermione, please tell us what you’re talking about,” Regulus asked placidly, trying to play to the three-year-old’s remarkable maturity.

“Hermione was playing with Ruthy when she had one of her daydreams,” she said as she looked at Rodolphus. The man had coined that term after a long conversation with Abraxas, the only person in the loop on Hermione’s abilities outside of the Dark Lord. It was innocent enough that were it to come up in any casual conversation, any wizard or witch would put it off as a little pure-blood girl dreaming of a husband, housekeeping and children.

“Uncle Tom is going to give my Uncles two little boys and then they’ll never play with their Hermione again!”

“Sons?” Rabastan said dumbly, a dazed smile coming to his lips.

Regulus, the brains of the pair, smacked his partner before pulling Hermione fully onto his lap.

“Oh my sweetest little love, your Uncles love you so much. It doesn’t matter if we have our own children or move to the jungle, you’re still our favourite little girl.”

“Too many boys,” she said with a dramatic moan, hiding her face in Regulus’ neck with a sweet nuzzle.

“That just means you’re our queen of our hearts and home,” Rabastan said, pressing a kiss on Hermione’s thick head of hair. A combination of the couch’s gentle rocking and the wear of having a Vision put Hermione to sleep. Regulus moved very carefully as he removed her arms from where they were wrapped tightly around his neck and laid her down in her bedroom.

Ruthy and Pippet insisted that they stay to watch over Hermione, so Rodolphus had no excuse but to answer to his brothers.

Rodolphus grabbed a glass of whiskey before sitting on his reclining leather chaise and looking the two men in the eyes.

“You have something to share, brother?” Rabastan asked, looking far more serious than he could ever recall seeing him.

“Do you recall Halloween 1981?” Rodolphus asked curtly, a hand running through his hair.

“You mean the night when Hermione had a tantrum and the Dark Lord dismissed everyone despite corralling countless house elves to hand out candy?”

Rodolphus huffed, “Yes, that night. Once everyone had left, Hermione started spouting off about some red baby and bad santa and her Uncle Tom being put to sleep. The Dark Lord looked perturbed, but also like he knew exactly what she was talking about. He was supposed to go to dinner with the Potters that night to discuss changes in the Hogwarts curriculum that Dumbledore wasn’t on board with. Abraxas said she had the Sight, but I wasn’t sure until I woke up the next day to see a Prophet headline saying that the Potter’s daughter was kidnapped.”

Regulus looked thoughtful, “We all know how Dumbledore tried to stoke the flames of a potential uprising at the press conference the next day… only for nothing to occur.”

“Exactly. It was like he counted on our Lord showing up so he could frame him and kill him,” Rodolphus said, having had years to think through the mad old wizard’s plan for that night.

“Well what’s happened since? How have you kept this from us, Roddy? Did we not make an oath to protect Hermione with our lives?” Rabastan asked, looking put out.

“Rabastan, this is my daughter’s life. Do you know the depths of depravity Dumbledore and the Order would sink to in order to have a Seer in their grasp? It takes all that I have to keep Hermione quiet half the time. She’s too young to grasp the implications of her gifts, so it’s my duty to protect her.”

“Brother… you can’t manage this all by yourself. Do you not remember the oath that we took years ago? Hermione’s safety is more than your burden to bear.”

“You can trust Severus and the Malfoys with this, Dolph. I’m sure the Malfoy library has information that we don’t have access to currently. I’ll even schedule dinner with my mother so that I can peruse the Black library,” said Regulus with a wry smile. Any time spent with Walburga Black was time you wish you could get back.

“I’ll reach out to Lucius and Snape,” Rodolphus stated hesitantly. “I think we can leave Rowle out of this for now.”

The Rowle viking was as aloof as ever, keeping his distance and anonymity, something that grew Rodolphus’ respect for him exponentially. It was one of those relationships where they both pretended that they’d owl for a get together, but never made good on their word. Rodolphus was well-chuffed with the lack of contact.

\--

The next evening found Hermione and Draco fast asleep, the boy resting in a transfigured bed while Hermione slept in his at Narcissa’s insistence of pure-blood decorum, with Dobby, an overeager Malfoy elf, keeping watch inside the room.

Rodolphus found himself retelling the same story to the trio, Rabastan making interjections as he had since he was a young boy.

Lucius had an uncharacteristic look of deep thought on his face, a break from his normal stoic and patronizing stare. “It must be of great importance to our Lord if my father hasn’t even hinted of this in passing. What have he and my father asked of you recently, Rodolphus?”

“Nothing,” he answered honestly. “Our Lord stated that I’m to bring any relevant visions to him at any hour of the day, but other than that they’ve simply doted on Hermione to the point of Parkinson’s insanity.”

Everyone let out a laugh.

“How have Hermione’s visions manifested?” Narcissa asked, the color not having quite returned to her face after hearing Rodolphus’ story. Her hand was clutched tightly in her husband’s, as if siphoning off his strength.

“They’ve been erratic and mostly benign. I wasn’t aware until Gildy shared with me, but elves’ memories can be viewed in a pensieve, which has allowed for sharing of the moments I’m not there for. She sees herself getting yelled at by one of those Weasel children while Dumbledore watches on, which leads me to wonder what’s up the man’s sleeve.”

Lucius scoffed in derision at the mention of the Weasley family, the filth of the Sacred 28.

“Her understanding of self is dichotomous, which worries me a great bit. She refers to herself as Hermione while explaining what she Sees, and she won’t listen when I try to correct her. This is a time where having a sane wife would be helpful. I can’t handle all this pure-blood female decorum,” the Lestrange patriarch muttered.

Narcissa clapped her hands daintily, “Well! It just so happens that our dear Hermione is turning four soon, and that’s when my mother started my lessons. Would you trust her to me thrice a week?”

Lucius gave Rodolphus a hard look that he understood. The couple had tried to conceive another child for years with no luck, and Narcissa’s dream of having a daughter was already being fulfilled through time spent with Hermione. He knew that Hermione needed a woman’s influence, especially one as refined and well-regarded as Narcissa Malfoy.

Rodolphus shot the woman a grateful smile, “That would be most helpful, and I know Hermione would be thrilled to learn regularly from you. Thank you, Narcissa.”

The woman waved him off with an elegant hand, smiling softly.

“What’s there for us to do?” Severus asked, a pensive look on his face.

“I’ll send an elf over with books from our library that may provide some assistance. We have the diary of a Seer, Larita Lestrange Malfoy, who married into the family in the late 1700s. Her birth was prophesied by Sophronia Lestrange in the 1200s as the first to wed a Malfoy and bridge our two ancient lines.”

“Larita was the last Lestrange daughter. For some reason, both of their portraits remain silent,” Rabastan piped up.

“Indeed,” Lucius drawled. “Magic has blessed Lestrange women with the Sight since its initial recognition of your familial line. It is my hope that she can provide some insight into what is ahead for our Hermione. Be warned that the diary is cursed and can only be touched by a Lestrange daughter.”

Rodolphus nodded, “Thank you... your support is appreciated.”

**March 12, 1984**

Rodolphus peered up from the pile of parchment on his desk at the creak of his study door. He smiled at the sight of Hermione’s golden curls, the light green silk dress she was wearing making her look like a little Slytherin princess.

“Daddy,” she said as she walked towards him with a smile.

“Hi precious, did you learn a lot from Aunt Narcissa today?” He asked, knowing the girl had just been retrieved by Gildy after another day of lessons with her aunt.

From what he could tell, the woman was teaching her everything from ballroom dancing to tea-drinking etiquette to the history of the Sacred 28 to the symbolism of flowers. Hermione came home both exhausted and exuberant after every day spent with her Aunt Cissa, and Rodolphus was deeply pleased at the way she’d cling to him and incessantly question him as if to verify certain claims her aunt made. Knowing he was who she trusted above all else injected a foreign, happy feeling in his stomach. He knew he wasn’t a man worthy of the love and trust and adoration his pure, perfect girl held for him. Selfishly, he just hoped she’d never find that out.

“Yes, daddy! We got to drink tea with Tizzy and Fizzy and Muffy and Dobby!” She said as Rodolphus plucked her slight form off the ground and curled her up in his lap. He’d talked to a few Lestrange-born women in the portrait gallery and was promised that every daughter before Hermione was just as tiny. Of course, in the days of old that would mean almost certain death, but today, the elves just continued to provide Hermione with snacks throughout the day along with potions suggested and brewed by Severus.

“Doesn’t that sound fun?” Rodolphus said as he hunched over and nuzzled her cheek. “What kind of tea did your aunt have you try today?”

“Peppermint, it was much better than the yucky pearl tea.”

“Earl Grey, sweetheart. I’m very glad you liked it better, daddy likes peppermint too. Now, why the sad face, my sweet?”

“We played ladies tea, and Aunt Cissa said that the elves were playing mummy and daughter because mummies like to have tea with their friends and children. If that’s true, why doesn’t Madam Lestrange like having tea or being with me?”

Rodolphus swallowed, unsure of how to approach an elephant that he’d rather let sit in the room for years to come. Bellatrix had made clear that Hermione was to address her as any other commoner would, separating herself from any relation to her daughter from the start. It suited Rodolphus’ selfish and anxious desire to have Hermione nowhere near Bellatrix, but he also knew well that his daughter would have more questions and hurt manifest as she grew older.

“She’s very busy, baby- Aunt Cissa is her sister, and they’ve never even had tea together.”

Hermione’s eyes popped wide, “Really?”

Rodolphus nodded with false solemnity. He hoped that Narcissa would pick up on the trajectory of his lie if Hermione were to bring this up. “That’s right. Your Aunt Cissa only has Draco- can you imagine how silly he would act if she brought him to a tea? He wouldn’t know how to pour, or what scones to eat, or how to talk to Tizzy and Fizzy.”

The man’s heart soared as Hermione giggled behind her tiny hand.

He sealed the deal, not feeling too bad about using Slytherin tactics to make his daughter feel less shit about her awful mother.

“You wouldn’t make Aunt Cissa go to tea alone, or worse, with Draco, would you, my angel?”

“No daddy! I’ll go with Aunt Cissa and make her proud. She said that all her friends would be generous of my manners.”

“Jealous, sweetheart. They certainly will be jealous of your manners, and your kindness and excellent conversation skills,” Rodolphus replied indulgently.

“Thank you daddy. Aunt Cissa said I should have tea with Uncle Rabby and Reg to show them what she’s taught me.”

Rodolphus laughed at his sister-in-law’s latest torture mechanism. “I think that’s a great idea, baby, and they’re both home now. We can have Gildy bring them into the dining room.”

“Yes daddy! First, they must change into their Sunday best. Aunt Cissa said anything less than your Sunday best would be uncivilized.”

“Indeed, darling,” Rodolphus said with a short bark of laughter and a kiss on her lips. Narcissa was taking her lessons seriously, and Rodolphus felt a shiver of worry roll through him as he thought through what Hermione’s lessons would bring in the years to come.

October 23, 1984

Pure-blood tradition differed vastly from gender to gender, and Rodolphus had never found himself bucking against most of the rigid standards that he and his brother had been raised to abide.

In his mandated Muggle Studies class, Rodolphus remembered reading the quote: “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”

He was quick to agree- tradition was tradition for a reason, and he was happy to upkeep it.

Others, though, saw problems with tradition and wanted to blow the whole establishment up. Albus Dumbledore was a known entity, the Hogwarts Headmaster who preached unity and love while never speaking a word to Slytherin students and standing against them in any matter that involved red and gold.

From what little Rodolphus knew of the Dark Lord’s childhood, Dumbledore left him to rot in a muggle orphanage and left him out to dry at Hogwarts. No Hogsmeade weekends for lack of a guardian, no integration into the wizarding world for lack of a well-spent summer, and no support from his-then professor simply for being an evil Slytherin. The man, for all the claims of him being the greatest wizard of a generation, was nothing but a bigoted old coot who was paid to bully children.

While Sirius Black was taken under the man’s wing the moment the sorting hat cried out Gryffindor, Rodolphus knew that Regulus was read for filth by the Headmaster when he’d confided in him one winter night. He’d never forget the night that his now brother-in-law came into the common room, tears marring his normally placid expression.

_“Do you have a moment?” Regulus asked, voice quiet. The common room was near empty, most of their housemates were asleep due to the late hour and exhausted from the train ride back after winter hols. Rodolphus found his peace in the dark of the night, when he was left alone to his thoughts and his school work._

_“Of course, Regulus. What’s happened?”_

_“My brother and mum got into a riff over the hols… Sirius was hurt. Mum wanted to leave him for dead, but I couldn’t. I helped get him to the Potters. She wasn’t too pleased when she found out, going on about how she had two blood-traitors for sons.” The boy looked much older than his 14 years, and Rodolphus felt incapable of responding to such a heavy moment._

_“If it wasn’t for Kreacher, I’m not sure I would’ve made it back here in one piece,” the boy paused to take a shaky breath. “Sirius once told me that Dumbledore was always here to listen, which I thought was rubbish at the time. But… I went to talk to him after supper, to see if he could help us.”_

_Rodolphus couldn’t help but inhale sharply, the sound filling the common room._

_The younger boy let out a derisive laugh, “He told me that he’s unable to interfere in familial matters, and that I should speak to my paterfamilias. As if grandfather will say anything other than to listen to mother. It’s like the blinders have been ripped off, Rod. Have I been a fool to think that any authority figure has good will for me outside of being a means to their ends?”_

_The older boy shook his head sadly, “Reg, an unfortunate truth that many of us have to confront is that even the most selfless individual has motives and a desired end. Whether it’s Dumbledore’s greater good that shucks off anyone from either of our families or your parents wanting to further the Black family line... those we love and look up to will always fall short of our expectations.”_

_“How can love and family always be conditional?” Regulus asked, his eyes wide and more innocent than any pure-blooded Slytherin male out to publicly show. Rodolphus knew that Walburga Black’s little prince and youngest son was always the sensitive one, much like himself, but his desire to quell the boy’s welling emotions went beyond his call of duty as the seventh year Slytherin prefect._

_It was a truth that all pure-blooded men were called to learn, instill in their sons, and protect their wives and daughters from. Life was nothing but a continuation of traditions and stilted social interaction that allowed magic and the family name to continue on._

_“I don’t think that there’s anything to make that realization easier to swallow, but thinking logically can make it easier to live with. Think about it, Reg- we are all products of our environment and cultivation. Our parents were raised to believe that they are conduits of the next pure-blood generation and that their sole purpose in life is to pad our vaults and raise the value of our last name. Meanwhile, Dumbledore is content to use children and untested propaganda as a means to his end. I’ve realized that there is no difference between black and white, yet that’s what our parents and fools like Dumbledore rest their whole lives on. All we can do is continue on and hope to raise our children better than our parents raised us.”_

_The boy let out a dry sob, driving his hands into his eye sockets as if to stave off his tears._

_“I’ll try, I promise,” he pleaded, as if Rodolphus was someone of any import. “I need to be better- more human - for my kids. This is no way to grow up.”_

“I was listening, daddy! I’m just so excited,” Hermione said, looking up with him with an adorable pout on her lips.

“Then tell me what I just said, my darling,” Rodolphus said with a serious look from where he was bent down closer to her level.

“I’m to stay with daddy at all times, keep my hands to myself, and only speak when spoken to,” the little girl parroted back, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her lilac-colored dress. Rodolphus thought it was a puffy monstrosity, but Narcissa insisted that it was only proper for a girl to wear something special for her first outing to Diagon Alley.

Lucius muttered that the first and only time he argued with his wife about Draco’s clothes, said outfit being a light purple and gold sleepsack, the little boy was dressed in pastels for a month straight. Rodolphus took the warning for what it was- he could only imagine what other frilly horrors Narcissa would have Twilfitt and Tattings create for Hermione.

“Such a good girl,” Rabastan crooned with a smile, his husband tapping him fondly on the hip. “I think someone will get a special something for her good behavior.”

Hermione giggled, not noticing her father shoot a haphazard stinging hex at his brother. He wished that his brother would treat the day with the seriousness warranted.

Pure-blood daughters were a rarity, seen as a gift from the fates, which was cause for both coddling and isolation. Every Sacred family had stories of little girls succumbing to illness or being kidnapped the first time they went outside written into their family records, cautionary tales that none treated with levity. The response to fear was to keep their daughters in their manors as long as possible.

Rodolphus would feel worse if Hermione didn’t have a 500 acre estate with countless rooms, a lake, a forest and rolling hills at her disposal as well as the safety and scenery of Malfoy Manor. Yet, unfortunately, he also knew that there came a time where his daughter needed to be introduced to a world outside their expansive property. His inability to keep her sheltered from his wife and the cruelty and danger of the world would always be his greatest failures.

“Ready to go, brother?” Rabastan asked with a smile, fingering the black clasp of his ostentatious silver cloak. Hermione, however, was delighted that her uncle had transfigured his cloak to match her own. Rodolphus bit his tongue to the point of drawing blood.

“Gildy,” Rodolphus barked, the elf immediately popping into the room. “Get some gloves to match Hermione’s outfit.”

“Yes Master!” Gildy squeaked at the same time Rabastan muttered that his brother was an overbearing hypochondriac.

“It’s a beautiful day out,” Regulus said casually, no judgement evident in his voice.

Rodolphus knew better than to be goaded by the pair, simply putting the silver silk and mink fur gloves on Hermione’s small hands and kissing both palms.

The man picked her up, giving her a squeeze and pressing a kiss on her forehead. He- they- could do this.

Rodolphus followed the two men into the floo, calling out the Leaky Cauldron as Hermione tucked her face into his neck. He was hoping that her first glimpse of the greater wizarding world wouldn’t be the disgusting, grime-infested pub. Internally, he’d argued the merits of entering through a Knockturn Alley shop, but one could never know the clientele. A germ-filled grease joint was the better and more stable option. If he was lucky, they’d make it to the Alley before she had recovered from the trip.

The three men moved quickly to enter the main drag, Hermione not getting her bearings back until they stepped into the full glory of London’s wizarding hub. The little girl let out a gasp, eyes filled with wonder as Rabastan and Regulus grinned at her.

“Gringotts first,” Rodolphus said, grateful for the way that the two men flanked him with their wands held less than casually in their hands.

“Gringotts is where the goblins work, right daddy?” Hermione whispered in his ear, tightening her tiny legs around Rodolphus’ upper torso.

“That’s right, precious,” he replied just as quietly, eyes continually scanning the street.

Regulus held the heavy marble door to the bank open, following the pair inside. Their steps echoed in the opulent foyer, creating a symphony of noise alongside the pecking of the goblins’ gnarled fingers on their typewriters.

“Ah, Lord Lestrange, Masters Black and Lestrange, delightful to see you,” Ragnok said with a half bow, the most respectful gesture one could expect from the tetchy creatures.

“Ragnok,” Rodolphus replied. “May I introduce you to my daughter, Miss Hermione Lestrange.”

The goblin let out a noise of interest, bowing deeper than the first time.

“Miss Lestrange, it is my honor to welcome you to Gringotts Wizarding Bank. May I say, she looks quite like Lady Larita. Yes, a striking resemblance.”

The man nodded, turning his head to watch Hermione smile and stare in curiosity at the goblin.

“Can we go on the ground now?” she asked with an excited gleam in her eye.

“Underground, precious.” Rodolphus corrected quietly. “We’d like to enter the annexed vault, Ragnok.”

“Yes, Master Lestrange,” the squat goblin said, leading them through the foyer to the carts that would take them to their set of vaults. Like other Sacred families, dirt poor Weasleys aside, the Lestrange vaults were in the deepest bowels of the bank, hidden away and protected by ancient wards and possessive creatures. He worried about how Hermione would react to seeing an animal for the first time, especially one that was chained up in a dark cavern. Rodolphus loved his girl for all she was, but her softened heart and moral idealism were cause for many sleepless nights.

Rodolphus stepped into a cart, shifting Hermione to sit on his lap. He took off his cloak to cover her entirely, doing a quick check to make sure she could breathe before holding her tightly against his chest. Regulus and Rabastan sat down before Ragnok hopped in and the cart door was closed with an echoing clang.

“This is the scary part, daddy?” Hermione asked, voice muffled underneath the thick cloak.

Rabastan cut in, putting his head down close to where he estimated Hermione’s was resting.

“It’s not so bad. We’ll be in the vault gifting you something pretty before you know it, little girl,” the man said in a surprisingly mature manner.

Rodolphus felt Hermione bob her head against his chest, her tiny hands weaseling between his shirt buttons to grip him closely.

With a terse nod from the Lestrange patriarch, the cart began its descent to the Lestrange vaults. Hermione’s breath hitched as they went downhill, and Rodolphus crooned placating words to her that he hoped she could hear through the cacophony of noises.

He didn’t remove the cloak that covered Hermione until the vault’s door was closed behind them, the sick-looking dragon surely a sight too much for his sensitive girl.

“The Lestrange annex,” Ragnok stated, as if they didn’t recognize the spacious area filled with jewels and priceless heirlooms.

“There you are!” Regulus exclaimed with a theatric gasp as Rodolphus gently took his cloak off and draped it on a hook at the front of the vault, drawing giggles from the girl who was gazing in wonder at the room she found herself in.

“Pretty,” she observed quietly.

“All right, sweetheart. Let’s find something you like,” Rodolphus said, carrying Hermione over to a large wooden dresser.

“This jewelry has belonged to our family for a very long time, and every little girl gets to pick one piece out when she turns five.”

“For protection,” Hermione said, parroting what her father told her days before.

“That’s right,” Rodolphus said with an indulgent smile. “There are bracelets, necklaces and rings that were made to protect you at all times.”

Rodolphus levitated the drawer of jewelry to Hermione’s eye-level with a quick swish and flick of his wand, the little girl’s eyes comically wide as she stared at the precious artifacts.

The man had no idea about this supposed family tradition until he received a letter from Ragnok on Hermione’s fifth birthday. The goblin mentioned a rite of Lestrange daughters, and Rodolphus milked the creature for all of the information he could share. He had, of course, waited until the next day after Hermione was sufficiently celebrated.

The story went that after Sophronia Lestrange, a notable Seer, was kidnapped and held captive for two weeks, her paterfamilias imbued nine pieces of goblin-made family jewels with protective wards, tracking charms and other spells that were lost with history. All the wizard knew was that if, Merlin forbid, something happened to Hermione, he’d be able to locate her and she’d be protected by the rich, ancient familial magic.

Rodolphus watched quietly as Hermione carefully weighed each piece in her hand, wishing he could know the inner workings of her mind.

“Want these, daddy. Uncle Lucie said pearls are always in style,” Hermione said, holding up a thin bracelet made of identical pearls, only separated with a green gem.

Rabastan snorted at Lucius’ pomp, always amused by the ridiculous things that came out of his mouth.

“A good choice, Miss Lestrange. That bracelet is comprised of South Sea pearls connected by the finest of goblin-crafted silver. The diamond you see there is what muggles now consider a Dresden Green Diamond, which was mined in southeastern India. This bracelet will grow as you do and is impervious to water. You must never take it off, young miss.”

“Thank you, Ragnok,” Rodolphus said as he took the bracelet from Hermione and gently clasped it on her tiny wrist. The girl smiled beatifically as she moved her wrist back and forth, and Rodolphus felt his stomach tighten. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his girl.

“Jewelry fit for my favorite princess,” Regulus said with a nod of his head and small smile.

Hermione was quiet as her father put her back under his cloak, Rodolphus smiling at the feel of pearls pressed against his chest.

Once off the Merlin forsaken cart, Rodolphus reclasped his cloak and held Hermione close before the quartet headed out of Gringotts. The cobblestone paths had filled up while they were underground, much to Rodolphus’ chagrin.

“Thirsty, daddy,” Hermione said softly, knowing that one of the man’s rules was to remain quiet while they were in public.

“We’ll get you some juice, precious,” Rodolphus whispered back, just as quietly. He received a quick kiss to the cheek for his answer, and it took all he had not to smile. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

“Where to?” Rabastan asked, pulling off a casual air despite the fact that he had his wand gripped tightly in his hand and an eye on any and all potential threats.

“Let’s stop right quick at the market to grab a drink for Hermione, then we’ll make a stop at the bookstore before heading back.”

Hermione perked up in his arms at the mention of the bookstore, and Rodolphus was simultaneously pleased and worried at her excitement. Was he raising a Ravenclaw?

The Diagon Alley market was a large shopping centre that wealthy families never deigned to enter, typically sending house elves to complete any necessary shopping. Rodolphus rarely had reason to shop there himself, but knew that they’d have fresh juice for Hermione.

Stopping at the first merchant they saw with fresh juice, Rodolphus quickly paid for Hermione’s favored pumpkin-apple juice.

What he didn’t account for was the grimy, snaggle-toothed man who came up and attempted to sell him a house elf, the cretin pointing out a tiny cage that housed four elves a few tents over. However, he wasn’t shocked when Hermione immediately burst into tears, pointing a diminutive finger towards the cowering elves as if he didn’t see the whimpering creatures.

“Salazar’s rod,” Rabastan muttered quietly, quickly receiving a smack on the hand from Regulus.

“Oh, my precious girl. They’re all right,” Rodolphus cooed quietly, shifting from side to side. He knew his placations were just that… placations. From the first tear Hermione spilt, he knew he’d be leaving the alley many galleons lighter and the owner of four more house elves.

“Why are they squished?” Hermione asked through her sobs, not having the vocabulary to describe the destitute sight of four house elves in a cage that should’ve held two.

“They’re just waiting for someone to take them home, darling,” Regulus said with an apologetic look to Rodolphus. The Black had always had a soft spot for elves. The men, including the rat fucker who was selling the elves, knew what would come next. The salesman was the only one smiling.

“Let’s take them home, daddy. They need us,” Hermione said, holding a tiny hand to her dad’s cheek as though he needed more than her tears to be convinced to purchase the elves.

“Okay, precious. We’ll take them home,” Rodolphus said, glaring at the merchant. The elves’ golf ball sized eyes filled with more tears, a choir of chants about their perfect, pretty, smart, kind new miss echoing through the bars of their cage.

Rabastan called for Gildy as Rodolphus paid, their head elf immediately bonding with the four new members of the Lestrange clan before they all popped out of sight.

Rodolphus performed a quick muffling spell on Hermione’s ears so he could threaten the man for all he was worth. By the state of his quivering legs when Rodolphus let him know where pieces of his body could be found if he ever caged elves up again, he was certain the man wouldn’t be back any time soon. He considered his act paying it forward for the next family who came into the market.

Once home, Hermione was overjoyed to meet the four new elves, naming them Pinky, Sunshine, Rainbow, and Rose after finding out they were all females. The small creatures let out noises of joy, assuring the little girl that these were the best names they’d ever heard. Regulus had to kick Rabastan out of the foyer for his raucous laughter.

“What do you like to do?” Hermione asked, standing at the same height as the diminutive elves.

“We please our good miss!” one, Sunshine, Rodolphus believes, replied.

“Rainbow enjoys smiles and friends!” a particularly pink elf replied, dancing on its toes as if the thought of friendship was enough to celebrate.

Hermione’s eyes gleamed as she pivoted towards Regulus.

“Uncle Reggie, I have a good idea!” Hermione exclaimed jubilantly, both men exchanging uneasy looks over her head.

“I’m sure you do, darling,” Regulus replied.

“Kreacher needs a friend! Can Rainbow be his helper?” she asked, causing the dark-haired man to swallow a laugh.

“Why don’t we ask him?” Regulus replied before calling Kreacher, deciding to throw his grouchy elf straight into the dragon’s mouth.

“My dear Master Regulus,” the elf replied respectfully with a bow, his long, hairy ears sweeping the floor. “My darling, sweet Miss Lestrange.”

“Hello Kreacher!” Hermione said, bounding up to hug the elf. Regulus found few things funnier than watching Kreacher interact with the little girl, knowing full well that the Black children he’d raised were no match in the affection Hermione showed.

“Kreacher, I have a new friend for you. Rainbow can play with you and help Uncle Reggie and Uncle Rabby be good and clean!”

The elf’s eyes bulged, looking to his beloved Master Regulus who only nodded at him.

“Y-yes, thoughtful young miss. Kreacher will teach the elf how to serve the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and House of Lestrange!” the elf said, finishing off stronger than he started. His bug eyes gleamed with the possibilities that came from bossing around the young, impressionable elf.

Rainbow let out a pleased squeak, following Kreacher’s barked order to grab his hand. The duo popped out of existence. Hermione smiled as she focused on the other three elves with hands on her hips, letting them know that Gildy would find them somewhere they liked to work. Rodolphus couldn’t help but smile, knowing his daughter would rule a manor with the love and strength of a matriarch one day in the far, far future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me? Please know that this is going to be very much about Hermione's journey through Hogwarts and life. There will be no major departures from her canon personality, which is something I'm sure folks are wondering about with her potential Sight. Stick with me! I promise you'll enjoy the ride and I won't get too "out there" for you to stomach.
> 
> I’m on tumblr at /thiscitychickk, I have no idea how it works but my messages are open!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends. It's been a wild few weeks. What a weird world we're living in. Hope you enjoy this. Please point out any errors- I wanted to get this up quickly and hopefully ease your minds in this tumultuous time.
> 
> Trigger warning for nonconsensual drugging of a minor and minor parental(ish) abuse.

**January 5, 1985**

“You? Teaching kids?” Rabastan guffawed, slapping his knees like an uncouth heathen.

“I’m glad you find my life humorous,” Snape said through gritted teeth.

“Why now, Severus?” Lucius asked with a piercing stare, pulling Narcissa onto his lap from across the couch. The woman gave his thigh a firm squeeze in annoyance, but melted into him nonetheless.

“Professor Riddle is in dire need of an ally in the castle, one that Dumbledore doesn’t have reason to question,” Snape said, derision laced in his tone as he spoke. Much to the surprise of almost everyone, the Dark Lord had recently rebranded himself to his most loyal as the approachable, normal Hogwarts professor, Tom Riddle.

_Rodolphus had just fallen asleep when he felt a slight weight that could only be Hermione climbing into his bed._

_“Need to see Uncle Tom,” the little girl slurred as she crawled across the large bed to curl up against her father’s broad chest._

_“Did you See something, precious?” Rodolphus asked, running a large hand through Hermione’s sleep-flattened curls._

_“Yes daddy, woke up to go potty and Saw something,” the little girl said with a yawn. “Need to see him now before I forget.”_

_“I’ll have Gildy let your uncle know we’re coming over,” Rodolphus narrated, nodding as the elf quickly popped in and out of the room, an old-fashioned nightcap on her bulbous head. “But first, let’s get you to the loo.”_

_Rodolphus ended up doing most of the work in the bathroom, Hermione too tired to do more than continuously mutter under her breath about what she’d Seen._

_The Dark Lord was residing at Malfoy Manor over the holiday, enjoying his reprieve from Dumbledore’s watchful and overbearing presence. The man was dressed in a crisp suit despite the late hour, possessively taking Hermione into his arms the moment Rodolphus carried her through the fireplace._

_“Good evening, little one. Your father said you had a Vision,” the man said, moving to sit down with Hermione on his lap. Rodolphus nodded to Abraxas as the man stepped into the study, his ice blue nightgown reflecting brightly in the fire._

_“Yup,” Hermione said with a yawn. Rodolphus thought of how Narcissa would react to his girl using slang like a street urchin. “If you stop calling yourself Lord and make the people forget, you’ll be happy.”_

_The man took a deep breath, his expression making clear to Rodolphus that he had no understanding of how to extract answers from vague, sleepy five-year-olds._

_“Why will Uncle Tom be happy, precious?” Rodolphus asked pointedly, trying to move the conversation along._

_“First Grandpa Brax was wearing a silly purple hat and told him that he’s a shoe for minister. A red-headed lady came up and hugged him. She was happy and said we did it. Hermione didn’t get it, but that’s what she saw,” the girl’s speech was slurred, yawning as she rested her head heavily on the man’s shoulder. She couldn’t help but think that Uncle Tom was nowhere near as comfortable to lay on as her daddy was._

_“Then I was in the room where Uncle Lucie gave my dragon and I quiet time for playing artist,” the little girl said with a pout. The Dark Lord’s preferred meeting room, Rodolphus thought. Lucius had gone wild with rage and fear when an elf informed him of the beautiful artwork that the children had created. Not even Narcissa’s soothing tone and wandering hands could calm him down._

_“Uncle Sev was tired, he held his wand up to all of the losers and then their eyes looked silly,” Hermione said._

_“Losers?” Abraxas asked, voice thick with sleep._

_“I asked daddy why he gets to sit while lots of people don’t, and Uncle Rabby said it’s because they’re losers,” the little girl answered honestly, drawing a rare bark of laughter from the Dark Lord while Rodolphus let out a pained sigh. How many times had he told Rabastan that speaking frankly in front of an inquisitive little girl made certain his dangerous comments would be repeated?_

_“Why were their eyes silly, Hermione?” the Dark Lord asked._

_“They looked like when the man wanted to give out his books on Halloween,” the girl said with a slight shrug._

_The three men’s eyes lit up. Now they were getting somewhere._

_\--_  
_The year was 1984, and if you asked Rodolphus, the move was a failure from the beginning. Poseidon Parkinson had the brilliant idea that Gilderoy Lockhart was worthy of joining their cause._

_Rodolphus and Severus had placed a bet on the timing and method of when the man would hex himself in the foot, and weren’t disappointed. Halloween had become a regular tradition for the group, every celebration bringing more children and greater supplies of candy into the fold. The Dark Lord liked to pretend he simply enjoyed making kids happy, but Rodolphus knew his happiness on October 31 had to do with thwarting the Hogwarts Headmaster years before._

_Lockhart had decided to bring copies of his latest book, Vanquishing a Vampire, to hand out to the children present. Hermione was the first to receive it and immediately burst into tears, which was cause for Rodolphus, Lucius, Severus and Regulus to draw their wands on the man while Regulus picked the girl up and carried her halfway across the room. The vain Ravenclaw held the books up as if to show the men he was harmless, immediately receiving a stinging hex from all of them once they saw the cover. Lockhart was stood with a wooden stake that repeatedly plunged into the chest of a “vampire,” causing said vampire to immediately burn to a crisp. It was an impressive use of charms, but one that would cause reasonable fear for any child._

_“The fuck is wrong with you, mate?” Rabastan had asked in a quiet, steely voice. Rodolphus was surprised his brother could keep his voice low despite the amount of children around._

_Before he could answer, the Dark Lord decided to intervene. “What did you do to upset dear Hermione on this joyous occasion?”_

_“My Lord, I simply thought to bring the children a copy of my newest book, Vanquishing a Vampire. Copies are available at Fl-”_

_The attractive brunette cast a silencing charm at the man who was still far more confident than he should have been, clearly not realizing who he was up against._

_Rodolphus looked over to see that Narcissa had entered the drawing room, likely after Regulus sent an elf for her, the woman now cradling her beloved pupil and goddaughter in her arms._

_“Ah, Gilderoy. I’m inclined to think the muggles have the saying right here. You are, what they call, too stupid to function, hm?”_

_The blond began to splutter a defense for himself, not realizing he was already dead in the water._

_“When Poseidon came to me confidently asserting your merits, I was inclined to believe him. A Ravenclaw, the strong wizard among two squib sisters, a man who has overcome the ghastliest of magical creatures. Yet, it seems my trust was misplaced. How can I trust you when, among your many other shortcomings, you ruin a Halloween celebration in order to promote your own career? And worse, you silly boy, making our darling Hermione cry? It seems that Poseidon was wrong: you have no place among this crowd.”_

_“Antonin,” the man called, still deceptively calm._

_“Yes, my Lord,” the Russian responded, removing his hand from the cauldron of Bertie’s Botts that it was currently buried in and moving towards their leader._

_“Why don’t you and Mr. Parkinson take a walk? Perhaps you could remind him of the importance of sound character judgement.”_

_The long-haired wizard sucked in an excited breath, “It would be my pleasure, my Lord.”_

_Poseidon’s eyes bulged, “My Pansy and Perseus are here!”_

_“No worries, Poseidon. We’re among friends, aren’t we? I’m sure Bellatrix would be happy to watch them while we fetch your wife.”_

_The witch in question let out a delighted cackle, making her way over to the pug-faced children. Perseus, a boy who looked to be eight or nine, had the smarts to look nervous and pull his sister closer to him. This was what Rodolphus considered to be a masterclass in why one should keep their thoughts and opinions to themselves._

_Though there was a tension in the atmosphere, the Halloween celebration went on for a few moments longer. Bellatrix loomed over the Parkinson children and made her way back to taunting those from the outer circle once their pale and shaken mother arrived to take them home._

_“Thank you all for coming, and may the rest of your day be full of treats and not tricks!” the Dark Lord said with a chuckle to himself. Rodolphus found himself confused, but noted it was one of those times that only Severus and the other half-bloods in the room seemed to understand the man’s joke. He wondered to himself, not for the first time, if he should have the dour man teach Hermione of her would-be heritage._

_Knowing that the dismissal was only for the outer circle, Rodolphus didn’t move. He noted with interest that Lockhart was frozen to his spot, clearly having been immobilized moments prior._

_Once the doors closed and all the children besides Hermione and Draco were gone, their leader spoke once more. The young pair were sat at a table with Regulus, who looked on with amusement as the blond boy removed all the chocolate in his cauldron and gave it to Hermione._

_The little girl was smiling up at the boy as though he was the second coming of Merlin, and Rodolphus bet the Lestrange fortune that he had the same smug smirk on his face that his father and grandfather wore so well. The man was sorry to say that he’d be taking the girl’s candy from her as soon as she got home. Hermione was slowly making her way through the early part of Larita Lestrange’s writings, the girl holding the book open while Rodolphus scanned to make sure the entries were child-friendly. The witch detailed her likes and dislikes early on, waxing on about how an indulgence in sweets routinely made her See abrupt fractures of countless moments. He’d made the mistake of not ordering the elves to keep chocolate away from his girl months earlier and ended up with puke all over his carpet and a crying, disoriented little girl in his bed. His proverbial foot was put down after that and he was careful to heed Larita’s writings going forward._

_“Ah, Mr. Lockhart. What are we to do with a man so clearly undeserving of our brethren?” the Dark Lord asked rhetorically while the inner circle watched on expectantly._

_“I simply wanted to expand the children’s horizons!” the man pleaded, fruitlessly attempting to move his feet._

_“Expand their horizons with your fabricated tales? Severus, if you would wipe Mr. Lockhart of his time spent with us. I believe a mutual parting is best. I for one would love to forget our acquaintance,” the man said, watching on with amusement as Severus obliviated the man, leaving Lockhart with a dopier than usual expression on his smug, handsome face._  
_\--_

_“Did your grandpa and uncle look the same as they do now?” Rodolphus asked, knowing by now that Hermione didn’t have a firm grasp on the timeline of her Visions._

_Hermione nodded again, letting out a soft whine. The man knew they had an impending meltdown on their hands if he didn’t get Hermione home._

_“One more question, Hermione. What shall I call myself?”_

_“Tom, just Tom. Still my Uncle Tom, though,” the girl said, eyes comically sliding shut as though she’d fulfilled her purpose in the land of the living. Even as she grew, her Visions left her weak and tired. Rodolphus made a mental note to order a Malfoy elf to let Narcissa know tomorrow’s lesson would be canceled before they left the Manor._

_“Indeed,” he said with a drawl, waving a hand towards Hermione to signal that he was done with the girl. Niceties could only extend so far when children were involved, Rodolphus thought as he lifted up his daughter._

“Still doesn’t answer the question, Sev,” Rabastan said, taking a sip of his gin.

The soon-to-be professor leveled the group with a stare. “If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say that Tom would like to lower Dumbledore’s defenses and suspicions before a certain group begins their schooling in a few years.”

No one had anything to say to that.

March 9, 1985

“But why, daddy?” Hermione asked in a tone that left Rodolphus gritting his teeth.

“If you don’t watch your tone, you’re going to spend the day in your bedroom without your books,” the man said, drawing a dramatic gasp from the little girl. Unlike his own father, he was strongly against spanking his child in punishment. He knew that he’d probably be singing a different tune if he had a son, but he couldn’t stomach laying anything less than a gentle hand on Hermione. Soft indeed.

“Why? Because your uncles are extremely excited for you to meet their sons. Now, we’re going to sit in the foyer and patiently wait for them to arrive home. Correct?”

“Correct, daddy,” Hermione said with a sigh.

“My perfect little girl,” Rodolphus said sarcastically, picking up Hermione and pressing a fond kiss to her cheek.

A short while later, an antsy Gildy opened the front door to let Rabastan, Regulus and two tiny boys in. Rodolphus only knew that they were getting a child, “two boys, daddy,” he could hear Hermione saying in his head, and was excited at the prospect of having more children to light up the manor.

Rodolphus was pleased to see the besotted looks on the men’s face as they stared at the small bundles in their arms. He knew that they’d spent the night at Malfoy Manor, watching over the pair while they underwent the blood rite. The couple had decided to each posit their hair into a potion, providing both families with a male heir. Rodolphus, of course, would continue to put aside a sizable amount of money for Hermione, but was glad to know the family name would continue on.

Walburga was beside herself to learn she’d have three grandchildren, already considering Hermione to be her little pure-blood princess. The man knew how excited she’d be to see that the smaller of the two boys who was held in Rabastan’s arm looked like someone had cast gemino on a photo of baby Regulus.

“Boys, meet your Uncle Roddy and cousin Hermione,” Rabastan said, receiving an eye roll from his brother. He’d told him specifically that he was Uncle Rodolphus, not Roddy.

Hermione made her way up to the boys, bubblegum dress bouncing in her stead.

“Hello Colin! Hello Dennis,” she said with a sweet smile, standing on her tiptoes to try and get a closer look at the boys.

“Mummy?” the older boy asked, tears filling his patent-Lestrange blue eyes as he looked around the unfamiliar foyer.

“You’re okay, Colin,” Rabastan said, his smile dropping into an uneasy expression. “Let’s get you some lunch.”

“Mummy,” the boy cried again, putting his head on the man’s shoulder and seeking comfort despite his confusion.

Rodolphus felt his stomach drop as the smaller boy with Black family features began to cry, as if his brother knew something he didn’t by tearing up.

The quartet left the room, heading up the stairs to their expansive quarters.

Hermione looked up to him with a furrowed brow. “Were they not fond of me, daddy?”

Rodolphus gave into his urge to bend down and pull his little girl close to him. Selfishly, he was grateful that Hermione displayed magic at such a young age, leaving her without knowledge of the muggles who’d raised her the first few months of her life. What did that say about him?

“No, precious. Your cousins are quite tired. They’ve had a long few days and will be ready to play in a few days.”

Hermione smiled again, easily swayed. It gave Rodolphus a heady feeling to know that his daughter trusted every word that came out of his mouth. He’d leave his guilt for when he was alone in the dead of the night, with no one but the moon to judge.

April 17, 1985

Rodolphus had no idea what Thaddeus Nott and Severus had concocted to muddle the former memories of the newly pure children, but it worked like a charm. Hermione, in stark contrast with her former emotions about having cousins, was overjoyed once she realized she was the queen and they her lowly followers. He’d gleefully ribbed his brother as they watched her explain why Colin was playing tea wrong, asking if he regretted saying Hermione was the queen of their hearts and home. Regulus only muttered that he was too smart to argue, having lived through a childhood of playtime with the trio of Black sisters. Narcissa, however, was proud to know her teachings were working so well in practice.

Sunshine popped into the playroom, turning to look at Rodolphus.

“Master, you is having an owl!” she said, holding up a cream envelope.

Rodolphus immediately recognized the seal, opening the letter with trepidation. The sick feeling in his stomach only grew when he read that Tom wanted to meet with him alone that evening after Hermione went to bed.

Later that evening, he found himself with a glass of whiskey in front of the floo, awaiting the man’s arrival.

“Good evening Rodolphus,” the man said with the tip of his head as he stepped through the floo and brushed off his pants.

“Good evening, sir,” the Lestrange said with a nod. “Whiskey?”

“Actually, I would love to sit for a meal. A fight broke out in my class, Gryffindors and Slytherins, you see, and I held detention through dinner.”

Rodolphus smiled tightly, “Of course. Gildy, please prepare a meal for one.”

“Yes master!” Gildy said, popping out of the room once the man handed over his cloak.

Thankfully, Rodolphus didn’t have to wait long for the man to show his cards.

“Lily Potter and I have been in contact with multiple wizarding governments over the past few years, explaining the changes that we’d like to make to Hogwarts’ curriculum as well as our blood rite. We’ve convened a meeting of minds, if you will, to take place in Barcelona this weekend.”

Making eye contact, Rodolphus replied, “That is quite the feat, my Lord. How has the response from other governments been?”

The man sighed a little too robotically. “Our intended and implemented changes have been well-received by most. However, there are some who need more convincing on the benefit of integrating children into our world after their first display of magic.”

While Tom was smart, Rodolphus was a Lestrange. Feigning daft, he answered. “More convincing? Aren’t our numbers enough? We are boosting our population while keeping our community safe and cut off.”

“Exactly what we shared, Rodolphus. Unfortunately, proven statistics aren’t enough for our brethren in Germany, Norway and France. They’d like to meet one of the children we’ve integrated so beautifully into our society and ensure they’re truly treated as well as we’ve shared.”

“I see.” Rodolphus’ mind raced.

Tom nodded with an even expression on his face. “As such, I’ll be bringing Hermione with me to Barcelona. Her brilliance and enthusiasm is outmatched by any child that I’ve yet to meet, there is no one to more fully assuage their concerns.”

“Of course, it would be my honor for her to broker such a trust between wizarding nations. When will we be leaving?” Rodolphus couldn’t shake the feeling that the man wasn’t done breaking news to him yet.

The Dark Lord let out a feigned noise of irritation, “That’s where the situation gets quite difficult, you see. German Minister König has rallied others behind the curtain of traditional family values, questioning Britain’s cruelty for ripping children from loving families. Lady Potter has done well to dispel their concerns, but, as I’ve said, Hermione will eradicate any thoughts of our Wizengamot’s ill will.

“She will not be harmed under my watch, Rodolphus, but in order to paint the picture I must leave her to Bellatrix’s care throughout the public components of our trip. Nothing more believable than a mother’s tender care and a father staying behind to build the family business, hm?”

Rodolphus grit his teeth, watching as the man speared a roasted potato onto his fork.

“Quite right, my Lord. Who else will be joining your delegation?”

The man smiled with teeth for a quick moment, clearly expecting that the man would agree without a fight.

“Lady Potter, of course. Abraxas. Bella. Jorund Rowle, he’s quite influential among our foreign friends, and he’ll be bringing his son and wife. Antonin, our master of binding contracts at the Ministry. And Thaddeus Nott, who will explain the blood rite once the contracts have been signed.”

Rodolphus didn’t need arithmancy to know his little girl was outnumbered and he was outplayed.

April 26, 1985

“Don’t make me go, daddy,” Hermione sobbed, holding on tightly to the man. His face was pulled tight, eyes burning from his lack of sleep over the past eleven days.  
“Hermione, I need you to be my brave girl,” Rodolphus said, gritting his teeth as she continued to sob. They’d been performing this song and dance since he’d told her she was going on a trip without him three days prior, and now it was time for her to floo to the ministry before taking a portkey to Spain.

“I will, daddy,” she said, pressing her tear-soaked face into his shoulder.

“You have my whole heart, precious. I’ll miss you so much,” he said, pressing his own kisses to her forehead and lips. “Be sure to listen to your grandpa and Uncle Tom.”

“Yes, daddy,” she replied, ever the dutiful daughter. Rodolphus felt his stomach seize up, helpless but to send his treasure into a situation that she found terrifying simply because it was unfamiliar, not even knowing that the true terror lied within the performance she was going to have to give.

The man had sat down to explain that she’d be eating dinner next to Madam Lestrange and that it’d be very important for her to be friendly to her and smile big. Thank Salazar that Narcissa led that particular conversation, the blonde woman putting on a much better brave face than Rodolphus was able to.

Rodolphus had to quell the urge to tell Hermione that she was the most special person in his life, that he loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone, that he’d kill and die for her, as Abraxas stepped through the floo.

“Ready to go, dearest?” Abraxas asked, sparing a strained smile for Rodolphus. Fucking coward, the Lestrange thought.

“Yes, grandpa,” his brave, perfect girl said as she wiped her tiny face with even tinier hands. Rodolphus retied the white bow that sat at the front of her ice blue, knee-length dress, the white lace it was lined with matching the bow that Ruthy had insisted on tying in her curls. She looked like a princess. She was a princess, Rodolphus revised in his mind.

“I love you, precious. Daddy will see you soon,” the man said, sparing one final kiss for her forehead and stepping back.

“Three sleeps,” Hermione replied with a serious look at him, gaze softening when he answered affirmatively.

Rodolphus then handed her bright pink leather trunk to the minister who grabbed it in one hand and hefted Hermione onto his hip with the other. The moment the pair stepped through the floo, Hermione’s baleful eyes boring into his withering fucking soul the man let out a scream. As he threw priceless family heirlooms at the wall, all he could wonder was… whose greater good factored in his own?  
\--  
“You said she wasn’t a baby,” a boy grumbled loudly, his voice echoing in the upscale hotel lobby.

Hermione peered at him curiously from where she was held in her grandpa’s arms. His hair was almost as long as Uncle Lucie’s, but it looked more gold than platinum.

“Son, she’s five-years-old. Not everyone can be as tall as you are,” Jorund Rowle said to his son, sharing an exasperated look with his wife, as they walked up to the front desk at Spain’s finest wizarding hotel, the Sentra.

They were received immediately, the minister’s auror guard flanking the group on every side. A man with intense eyes took the portrait passwords from the concierge witch, unwilling to divulge who’d be staying in what room. The minister was, of course, given the presidential suite, but other than that, the room selections would remain a mystery to the hotel staff.

Hermione was delighted at the large oriental rug that floated them up to the ninth floor, but couldn’t help as she looked up with suspicion as Lily Potter grabbed her hand with an encouraging smile.

She took it without argument, remembering the promise she made her daddy: under no circumstance was she to tell Lady Potter about her daydream. And, her daddy had said, don’t talk about the baby girl with the red hair. Dorea, she now knew the girl to be named.

The large group walked into the room, and Hermione gasped in delight as she eyed four house elves dorning Sentry-branded tea towels standing near the room’s entry hall. She gently wrenched her hand from the woman’s grasp and made her way over to them.

“Hello! What are your names? My name is Hermione Lestrange,” she said with a large grin, overjoyed at the prospect of meeting Spanish house elves. Gildy had told her that the elves would likely speak Spanish and English, most high-profile wizarding hotels employing elves that spoke a litany of languages to serve wizards from all over.

“Hola, I am being Ferrero. They is being Perita, Belita and Fuggy,” said a male elf, looking proud as he introduced the other elves. “Our pleasure is to serve those staying in this suite! May we get the little lady anything?”

Abraxas rolled his eyes and smirked from where he was perched in a leather chair, amused at how the elves completely ignored the adults who’d actually paid for the outrageously expensive room in order to speak with the girl.

Hermione thought for a second before nodding, “May I have some pumpkin-apple juice, please? Maybe some yummy Spanish food? I’ve never been here before!”

Ferrero let out a pleased gasp, leaving most of the adults visibly disgusted with the view of the inside of the creature’s mouth and distracted from their conversation.

“Oh, yes! Ferrero brings up the most prized foods for the kind jovencita!” the elf popped out of the room.

Hermione smiled at the remaining elves who began pouring drinks for the others, and the little girl was pleased when her uncle patted his lap in askance. She had just curled up and gotten comfortable when Ferrero popped back in the room, a glass of juice with a tall straw and a large plate of food.

“Barcelona’s finest for the young lady!” Ferrero exclaimed with a low bow.

“Perhaps you can provide sustenance for the rest of us?” the minister drawled with a cocked eyebrow. The elf squeaked, nodding quickly before popping out of the room.

Hermione was pleased as punch as she drank her juice and ate pieces of fresh fruit and fried potatoes covered in a red sauce. She offered a potato up to her uncle, the man stiffening slightly as he shook his head no. No worries, the little girl thought. More for her.

Her feast of one was interrupted by the blond boy from earlier, who made his way over to her.

“May I have some of your food? I’m hungrier than a hippogriff,” he said with a beseeching look. The little girl giggled, not used to spending time with older boys.

“You may, my tummy is full,” she said, a slight blush on her face. Across the room, Jorund shared a fond look with his wife, Aliana at their son’s actions.

She made a face as he tore into the food as if he hadn’t eaten in days, reminded of the way her cousin Colin had eaten when he first arrived home. Her daddy told her that Colin and Dennis didn’t have as much food as they needed for a while, so they would be a little hungrier than she was. Looking at the man she knew to be his father, she wondered if he got so big by eating all of his son’s food. Seemed plausible.

“Now that we’re all settled and eating,” Tom said with a look around the room. “Bellatrix and Thaddeus will arrive shortly and I’ll speak with them on our plans for the evening. At half seven, we’ll have dinner with the Spanish, German, Norwegian and Bulgarian ministers as well as their wives and envoys in the ballroom downstairs. Expect their gentle probing during the preceding cocktail hour and close observation throughout the evening.”

“The plan is still the same, I presume?” a man with dark hair and darker eyes asked. Dolohov.

Tom’s eyes hardened slightly and he ignored the confused look that Lily sent his way.  
“Yes, the plan is the same. We are to remove all worries from the minds of our foreign counterparts and answer their questions. Our program is for the good of magical blood, our ancient lines, and the health of our children. We have young Hermione as well as the Rowles to remove any and all doubts.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes darted to Lily’s face, pleased to see that she nodded. He’d have to speak to Dolohov later about learning who to speak plainly in front of.

“Now, there is time for our delegation to rest up, bathe and get ready for this evening.” the man took care to hand out the room passwords himself, informing Abraxas that he was to be in charge of Hermione’s care through the remainder of the trip. The man nodded, inwardly pleased. Rodolphus had flooed to Malfoy Manor after his dinner with the Dark Lord, drunk and half-delirious as he begged him to watch over Hermione.

The room emptied quickly as Abraxas dismissed the aurors, letting them know he’d be in the room until they left for dinner. Moody let him know that he’d put up the ministry-grade protection wards outside of the room, receiving a quick thank you before hobbling out. The man was odd and intense, but Abraxas slept better knowing that he had him by his side.

“How are you feeling, little one? You’ve had an exciting day so far,” Abraxas asked Hermione, pulling her onto his lap on the plush leather couch.

“I’m tired, grandpa. Daddy said to make sure I take my nap while I’m here,” she said dutifully, leaning her head onto his shoulder.

The man loved his son and his grandson, but there was something special about having Hermione in his life. He’d never forget the day that she burst into his office sobbing, holding her arms up in askance as she called him grandpa for the first time. Admittedly, the moment became less precious when he’d had to punish his grandson for telling Hermione that girls couldn’t play with dragons, but it still warmed his stoic, cold heart.

Abraxas let out a rumble in agreement, “Your daddy is a smart man. Elf!”

“Ferrero is here, Sir Minister!”

“Send a female elf to help Miss Lestrange prepare for a nap,” the man said.

“Perita is helping sweet jovencita,” an elf said as she popped into the room, holding her hand out for Hermione’s when Abraxas placed her on the floor with a tender kiss to her forehead.

“Grandpa will be doing work in the study, Perita will remain with you and alert me if you need anything.” the elf nodded seriously, happy to be entrusted with such an important task.

“Bye bye, grandpa,” she said with a wave, listening to the house elf’s instructions.  
After using the ladies room and changing into a nightgown with Perita’s assistance, the little girl climbed into the luxurious hotel bed. The last thought before she went to sleep was how much she missed having her daddy stroke her hair and sing to her as she closed her eyes.

“Miss is being waking up now!” Perita said quietly, placing a gnarled hand on the girl’s duvet-covered shoulder. Hermione woke up with bleary eyes, feeling like she needed more sleep in order to be fully awake. Knowing by now that arguing with elves was futile, she pulled herself out of bed, the sheets instantly righting themselves with the snap of Perita’s fingers.

The little girl found herself dressed in a magnificent magenta gown that had gold embroidered flowers all over it. The dress ended at her knees, showing off her gold lamé shoes. Her curly hair was left down at the explicit instruction of the Dark Lord, Abraxas knowing that he intended to show off the girl’s resemblance to Bellatrix despite the fact that they didn’t share an ounce of blood. What they didn’t know didn’t hurt them, Thaddeus Nott muttered last week as the man shared his plan to use Hermione to seal the deal with potential allies.

Abraxas was straightening his robes as the little girl walked into the suite’s living room, a smug-looking house elf directly behind her.

“Sweetheart, you look beautiful!” he said with a smile. His wife Rosalia was something of a recluse, and he was grateful to have some family in the room tonight.

“Thank you grandpa,” she said with a shy smile and curtsy. The man smiled and nodded, reminding himself to recognize Narcissa for her clearly superb etiquette lessons.

A quick knock sounded, and the door opened to reveal the Dark Lord, Potter, Nott, Dolohov and Bellatrix. Hermione instinctively took a step towards her grandfather as the woman walked into the room, unused to spending time in her presence that wasn’t miserable.

“Ah, Abraxas, Hermione, looking sharp. The Spanish Minister shall be arriving momentarily, if you would like to escort Lady Potter to the ballroom. She’s waiting for you in the hall. We will be down shortly.”

The Malfoy man kept on his stoic facade, bending down quickly to speak with Hermione.

“Listen to your Uncle Tom, dearest. I will see you downstairs,” the man said, affectionately stroking his thumb over Hermione’s cheekbone.

As soon as the door shut, Nott pulled a vial of burnt orange liquid out of his cloak before handing it to Tom.

“My dear Hermione, I will need your bracelet for the remainder of our trip. Our counterparts aren’t fans of goblin made valuables.”

She looked at him with pursed lips. “Daddy said to never take it off.”

Tom bent down to her, stroking a finger along her cheek. “Your father would understand. I’ll keep it safe for you until we’re back home, dear.”

Hermione’s stomach fluttered in a foreign way, feeling a cold sweep over her as she removed the bracelet and handed it over to her uncle. If the man said her daddy would approve, it was okay with her.

“Very well, Hermione. Now, I have something special for you to drink to ensure you can stay awake during dinner. It’s sure to be a late night, and we are counting on your help to make friends with those present.”

Dolohov smirked at the girl’s quick nod, knowing that the man’s words went over the head of any five-year-old, no matter how smart they were.

“Here you are, girl,” he said with a fond look as he handed over the vial.

The group looked on with impatient eyes, a wide smile forming on Bellatrix’s face.

Hermione gagged as she swallowed the potion, grateful for her uncle’s soothing hand on her back. Immediately, she felt a weird sensation, like there was a cloud over her thoughts. As she looked at those in the room with her, she couldn’t pick out what had changed. Regardless, she knew her uncle would protect her.

“Bella, if you will,” Nott said in a quiet voice.

“Come to mummy, Hermione,” the woman said in a sugar sweet tone.

Hermione was confused by the words, but felt a nudge inside her mind that had her walking to the black-haired woman.

“Very good,” Bellatrix cooed, reaching a hand out to push a curl behind the girl’s ear. “You’re going to listen to everything I say tonight and follow every order I give you, correct? You’re going to love me like every little girl loves her mother, hm?”

“Yes, Madam Lestrange,” the girl said automatically, eyes wide. She didn’t remember thinking before speaking.

“Very good,” the woman repeated. “But you’ll need to call me mummy all night. Are we ready to get this over with?”

“Let’s make our way to the ballroom,” the Dark Lord said, a pleased smile on his face.

“Now, girl,” she barked, Hermione following obediently behind her.

“What the hell did you make, Nott?” Dolohov asked quietly, eyes frozen on the tiny girl who was being pushed through the hallway by an already irritated Bellatrix.

“An undetectable version of the imperius curse that the mind can’t overcome. All it requires is the hair of the person you want the drinker to obey- quite simple once I cracked the recipe.”

The Russian’s stomach of steel dropped a bit.

“So the girl has to obey everything that bitch says? How long does it last?”

The man shrugged casually, ignoring the first question. “Should be twelve hours. She’ll wake up good as new with little to no memory of tonight, just like the imperius.”

Dolohov shook his head a little, willing away his thoughts. Now was not the time to grow a conscience.

The cocktail hour was winding to a close as the entourage walked in, just as Tom had planned.

“Minister König, Minister Rivera, Minister Borja, Minister Malfoy,” Tom said in a regal voice, stopping the ongoing conversations. “It is a pleasure to be with you all this evening. May I introduce you to Bellatrix Lestrange and her daughter, Hermione, who was the first to undergo our blood rite.”

The three foreign ministers looked down at the little girl as though she were a potions experiment.

The German minister walked over to the little girl, ignoring Bellatrix and getting down on one knee.

“Hallo, Hermione. My name is Ansgar, it is my great pleasure to meet you,” he said. The girl immediately held her right hand out, receiving an impressed look from the man before he kissed a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

“Hi sir, thank you. Daddy said Germany has lots of castles for princesses like me,” she said with a curtsy, surprised and delighted laughter ringing out among the strangers.

The man nodded seriously, “Da, there are many castles fit for princesses like you. Soon, your family must visit and I will show you them.”

“That sounds delightful. My husband was unavailable to join us on this trip, but we’d love to visit soon,” Bellatrix said with a smile, sidling up to Hermione and placing a stiff hand on the back of her neck. The little shudder the gesture elicited went unnoticed by everyone as a house elf with a gong walked in and ushered the group to the long dinner table.

Hermione’s tummy hurt as Madam Lestrange walked her to the dinner table, the woman’s sharp nails digging into her soft skin. The little girl sat down with a plop, the woman on her left while the Spanish minister was on her right.

She daintily ate the onion soup she was presented with, pleased to see that one of her favorite dishes was being served.

Despite being extremely hungry, her Uncle Tom continued asking her silly questions he already knew the answer to that kept her from the spread in front of her. Yes, she loved playing with her house elves at the manor. Yes, she spent time every day with Aunt Narcissa learning to be a young lady. Madam Lestrange interjected when she answered this, offering the little girl a sharp look before stating that she and her sister jointly taught Hermione lessons as the poor dear didn’t have a daughter of her own. Abraxas was pleased at the sympathetic looks from their foreign counterparts, the gullible men eating up the fabricated tale.

“What’s your favorite part of your family?” the German minister asked, thinking of how his wife longed for a little girl much like this one.

“Reading with daddy,” she said with a small tremble in her lip, eyes becoming watery as her mind focused on his hugs and kisses, the funny voices that he read in. “I miss him when he’s not here.”

“Fix that lip now, girl,” Bellatrix commanded, her voice just the wrong side of caring. “You’ll see him again quite soon.”

“What an impressive little girl,” the Spanish minister said with a gleam in his eye, unaware of the fuming witch shooting daggers at Hermione just seats over from him. “I can speak for my country when I say that this is quite an operation your ministry is running. We look forward to joining you tomorrow.”

“What a pleasure to hear that,” Abraxas said with a genuine smile. “We look forward to providing any assistance you may find yourself in need of in the days ahead. That goes for all wizarding nations; we are here to help, for the greater good of our kind.”

“Tomorrow it is,” the Spainard spoke again, standing from the table. Hermione’s stomach dropped- she barely had a bite to eat and her head felt like a cloud.

“Come now,” Bellatrix hissed out as Abraxas pulled his fellow ministers, Tom, Thaddeus and Lily off into a game room for further conversation.

Hermione was shivering as the pair headed back upstairs with Antonin, the Russian silently listening as Bellatrix continued to berate the little girl for reasons she didn’t understand.

Once inside the room Hermione was sharing with her grandpa, the woman screamed wildly.

“How hard is it to listen? Is your mudblood brain too muddied up to do what you’re told?” She screamed, grabbing the tiny girl by her arms.

Hermione shook like a leaf, letting out terrified sobs as the screaming continued. She didn’t know what was going on, and her brain felt even worse than it did when she had the flu and daddy had to feed her soup for a few days.

“I think that’s quite enough, Bella. We need her to be well enough to seal the deal tomorrow,” Antonin said, voice sharp. He couldn’t help but feel his gut clench as he thought about his own childhood, the way his mother nurtured him and his father gently guided him. This little girl would never know a mother’s love, that was for certain.

“Get in bed immediately and don’t move until you’re summoned,” Bellatrix snarled, Hermione helpless to do anything but stumble to her bed.

The little girl curled up into a ball on top of the duvet, sobbing all over her beautiful dress.

“Daddy,” she sobbed, hoping against hope that the man would materialize in front of her. She looked up with a missed breath as she heard a pop, able to make out three house elves despite her blurred vision.

“Miss is being hurt,” Perita said, eyes wide.

“Need daddy.”

“We is not knowing him,” she said, sharing heartbroken looks with the other two elves. “We is able to change miss for sleep. Come here, jovencita.”

“Can’t leave bed,” the girl stuttered, her head tightening in pain at even the thought of leaving bed.

“Is no trouble for us. Is little miss needing food? Juice?” Belita asked quickly, moving antsily on the balls of her feet.

“Yes, please, Belita,” she said with a hiccup, able to spare a soft smile for the elf regardless of the state she found herself in.

“Ferrero is making food!” the male elf said with a determined gleam in his giant eyes before popping out of the room.

The two female elves undressed Hermione gently and put her into a long, rose-colored nightdress.

“There there, we is taking care of you,” Perita crooned as she brushed the girl’s curls gently, the other two elves hand-feeding a slumped over Hermione.

She’d finished only half of the roasted chicken and potatoes before she fell asleep, Ferrero having the foresight to put a small amount of dreamless sleep in the girl’s pumpkin-apple juice.

The elves remained with her through the night, lamenting the story they had seen play out many times before… the young witch or wizard who was so full of love and thusly beaten into submission and molded into an unfeeling pure-blood. It was a tale as old as time for the elves, and they learned not to hope for loving humans to serve. Surprise was better than consistent disappointment.

Abraxas soaked in the beautiful morning air as he responded to his ever-growing pile of correspondence on the hotel balcony. He ignored the house elf that placed a fry up in front of him, signing his name with a flourish before touching the food.

He couldn’t have been more pleased with the events of last night, knowing from years in politics that the deal was sealed with the after dinner drink the group shared. The German minister, once critical of their program, raved about the brilliance of the little girl who was their flagship child. Abraxas smiled as he thought about Hermione, the little girl who charmed everyone she met.

After he finished his leisurely breakfast he made his way to her room, opening her door to see that she was still fast asleep. He was surprised and perturbed to see three house elves sat cross-legged on the ground, the trio quickly making their way to stand on their spindly legs.

“Hermione, it’s time to wake up,” the man said in a quiet, firm voice. The little girl didn’t move from where she was sprawled out, a stuffed green dragon peeking out from under the covers.

“Minister sir, Perita is noticing that little miss is not feeling so good,” the head elf said with her eyes trained on the ground.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked, frustration and worry clouding his mind at the vague answer.

“She is coming in last night being yelled at and crying, but her elves fed her and helped her sleep.”

Not that anyone was there to notice, but the color drained from the man’s face as he thought back to the previous night. Antonin and Bellatrix were the only two to leave with Hermione.  
Abraxas eventually coaxed Hermione awake, the little girl running to the loo before returning to sob on his lap. She tuckered herself out quickly, falling back asleep in his arms. He was helpless to do anything but allow her to sleep and wonder what had happened after the trio left.

“Elf, bring Dolohov immediately.”

The handsome Russian arrived quickly, sprawling out on a leather chair like he owned the place.

“Would you like to tell me what happened last night after you left, Dolohov?” Abraxas asked from where he was perched on a chair, his wand gripped in his right hand.

“It was the bitch, not me,” he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. “She started calling the girl a mudblood and I told her to stop. I don’t want to play any part in this family feud.”

“Why Bellatrix was angry with Hermione?”

“The potion Nott gave her wasn’t as potent as she wanted it to be, I guess,” he said with a shrug.

Abraxas blood turned to ice in his veins. “What potion?”

The brunet looked bewildered at his lack of knowledge. “They gave her his new imperius potion- worked rather well, too.”

“You can show yourself out. I appreciate your assistance,” Abraxas said, standing and trusting his auror guards to walk the man out.

The man entered Hermione’s room again, sitting on her bed gently.

“Darling, it’s time to wake up. The elf made you lunch,” he said in the gentlest voice he could muster, rubbing a hand over her fragile back.

She let out a little moan, nuzzling deeper into the cloudlike bed before lazily opening her eyes. The man had seen a lot in his life and tenure as minister, but he knew he’d never forget the horror that set in the girl’s eyes when she finally woke up.

“I don’t feel so good, grandpa,” she said with a tremor in her voice. He instinctively pulled Hermione into his lap, holding her close.

“It’s okay, Hermione. Grandpa’s going to take care of you,” the man lied, his stomach sinking as he realized there was nothing he could do to keep the girl from Bellatrix without tanking the contract signing.

“Can we go home to daddy now?” she asked quietly.

“Not quite yet, button. One more sleep and we’ll be headed home,” he said with false cheer. In his head, he was already thinking of ways to get Hermione out directly after the ceremony.

\---  
Abraxas was furiously cleaning his teeth in the bathroom after throwing up, the sight of his granddaughter being forced to swallow multiple vials of an illegal, unclassified potion too much for him to bear. The way Tom had watched the proceedings with a small smile was seared into his mind, the man saccharinely telling Hermione just how proud of her he was. For the first time, Abraxas found himself internally questioning just how far apart their definition of the greater good was from Dumbledore’s. Were innocent lives worth a desired end goal?

Only years of mindless socialization allowed him to make it through the ceremony, interviews with reporters, a kiss to the hand of dignitaries’ wives who had been invited, the trademark Malfoy smirk worn on his face in countless posed photographs.

He was wrapped up in a conversation with the German minister after the contracts were signed and Dolohov had immediately returned to London to archive the documents, causing both men to miss Hermione and Bellatrix leaving the ballroom.

Jorund Rowle, however, was paying attention. The man had spent the night in a much too small hotel bed with his wife and son, the three feeling sick to their stomach with no reprieve. It was only in the dawning hours of the sleepless night that Aliana gasped, “The vow. The little girl is hurt.” That everything came together in the viking’s mind. His magic was pulling at him to make good on the vow he’d made to Rodolphus Lestrange in the dead of night. In the years following his vow, he thought back to the words he’d used when invoking the vow, pledging his family’s protection. His questions were all answered that night: his family would pay the price of his pledge.

He lumbered after the pair, his wife giving him a quick look before returning to her conversation with the Norwegian minister.

True to form, the mad woman started screaming at the little girl the moment they were out of sight and upstairs.

“I don’t understand! How useless can you be that even a double dose doesn’t work?” Bellatrix screamed, nails digging into the girl’s arms from where she was already slumped against the wail weakly.

“I’m sorry,” she bawled tiredly, sounding much more worn than any five-year-old little girl had the right to.

“I’d kill you now if I could,” she said sharply. “Now, you’re going to keep your mouth shut until you see Rodolphus again. No one else deserves the misery of hearing you speak, mudblood. Now get out of my sight.”

Jorund chose that moment to make his presence known, the witch sending a stinging hex at the tiny girl that had her on the ground and sent a painful olt to his own body.

“Are you in need of assistance, Madam Lestrange?” the man asked in a booming voice.

“Just saying goodnight to my daughter, Rowle. I’m not sure how you primitive Europeans handle family matters, but in Britain, it’s a private affair,” the woman said with a disgusted look before flouncing back into the ballroom.

He took one look at the crying little girl before pulling her into his arms, her tremors intensifying as she took in the stranger who was now carrying her.

“You are safe with me, kjæreste. We will go upstairs now,” he said in a quiet tone just the right side of soothing.

The girl was as weak as a newborn crup in his arms, lying still aside from the tremors that continued to wrack her unnervingly silent body.

Once in his suite, he laid her on the perfectly made bed that his family had slept in the night before. The girl let out a quiet moan as he placed her down, as if the movement was too much for her.

Jorund had grown up without sisters and felt wholly inadequate to do anything but stand guard over the girl as she cried out pitifully. He was fearful that any touch would crush her fragile bones.

“Elf,” he barked, a hotel elf popping into the room immediately.

“Fuggy is helping, sir,” a decrepit old elf answered with bulging eyes.

“Bring me the elf that serves the little girl,” he said commandingly.

The elf’s eyes moved to the little girl in question before he snapped his fingers and another elf appeared.

“How is Perita hel- oh, little miss,” she cut herself off with a sharp gasp, moving over to the little girl.

“Can you fix her,” the big man said, a concerned gleam in his eyes.

The elf ran a hand over her, the telltale colors of a diagnostic test moving through the air.

“She is getting bad potions for two nights, little miss is sick,” the elf said, brushing a hand through Hermione’s curls. “Perita is giving her a bath.”

Before the elf could levitate the girl, she vomited over the heather grey duvet, burnt orange coloring the previously monochrome fabric.

“Hva faen,” he muttered quietly, eyes wide as her body convulsed.

“There there, this is you feeling better,” the elf cooed, seemingly unaffected by the liquid that now covered her tea towel.

Another elf arrived once Hermione was levitated into the bathroom, only the sound of running water letting Jorund know what was going on behind the shut door.

“Elf, do you know what happened to the girl last night,” he barked as the elf vanished the stained duvet and laid down a new one.

The elf’s wide eyes turned to the giant man. “Little miss is not feeling well. They was making her drink something very bad and is yelling at her.”

“Who was there?”

“We is not knowing names, sir,” the elf said, body quivering.

“What did they look like?”

“The woman is looking mean with black hair and the man who said stop is wearing long brown hair.”

“You may go,” Jorund said with a wave of his hand. The elf popped out of existence with a squeak.

Aliana walked into the master bedroom after sending Thorfinn to prepare for bed in his own room, surprised to see her husband with a lapful of a fitfully sleeping little girl.

“What is wrong, Jorund?” the strawberry blonde woman asked quietly, her green eyes trained on the pair.

The man didn’t respond, simply putting down Hermione on the bed, gentler than a man his size should’ve been. Aliana flinched at the tiny elf that popped into the room like it owned the place, climbing onto the bed next to the girl.

Her stoic husband gave a nod to the elf before walking out of the room. The man, Merlin love him, was quiet until Thorfinn was laid in bed with a loving kiss from both adults.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on, Jorund?” Aliana hissed the moment they entered the suite’s living room.

“The girl was being hurt, you were right. Darling… this girl has been drugged to sickness the past two days and we were none the wiser.”

“What do you mean, drugged?” she asked, sliding into a chair.

The man huffed irately, “Exactly what it sounds like. I’m going to get Dolohov and figure out what the fuck has been going on behind closed doors.”

“He’s already gone back to London to file the paperwork,” Aliana responded. “Let’s just keep watch on the girl and bring her home tomorrow. Her father is a kind man, no?”

“Lestrange would do anything for the girl. He’s going to have a right fit when he sees the state they left her in.”

The couple was never more grateful than when the sun finally started to peek through the sky, the morning promising that they’d soon be back to their lives. Aliana spent the night curled around the slumbering girl like she was her own flesh and blood.

A frantic knock on the door sounding at half seven, the door opening to show a well-kempt Minister Malfoy.

“Is Hermione here?” the man asked, eyes attempting to dart behind the mountain of a man.

“She is. It seems you were derelict in your caretaking duties last night, Malfoy,” he said, tone icy.

In typical Malfoy fashion, the man straightened up, lifting his chin as if he was a physical match for Rowle.

“I was closing the deal as Minister for Magic. Surely you understand that my governmental duties are of the utmost importance.”

“Indeed. We’ll be sure to get Hermione back to her father and free up your morning so you can get back to work.”

A giggling elf met the man after he slammed the door in Malfoy’s smug, pointy face. The slight joy at angering the man was enough to power him through the next few hours and an uncomfortable portkey trip home.

Hermione woke up slowly, feeling a pressure between her shoulders and hearing a voice ring in her ears. The moment she opened her eyes her head throbbed with full intensity, and it wouldn’t surprise the girl if her head was literally bulging in and out from the sensation she felt.

“Is a good morning, little miss. Perita has some juice for you,” the sweet elf said, holding up a glass with a pink swirly straw. Despite her desire to fall back asleep, Hermione took a sip of the juice, not wanting to upset one of the only people who’d treated her kindly since she’d left home. She opened her mouth to say thank you, only to realize words were not coming out of her mouth.

“Don’t fret, little one. Just keep calm and we’ll get you home to your father in a jiff,” Hermione heard from behind her, head jerking around to see Madam Rowle kneeling on the bed in full day robes. The woman gave her a small wave, Hermione only having spoken with her a few times before.

The morning blurred by, Hermione too weak to do more than allow herself to be dressed by Perita and Madam Rowle, the pair coaxing her into eating a few slices of mango before she closed her eyes once more.

Once off the levitating carpet, Jorund picked Hermione up once more and carried her over to a curious looking Tom Riddle. To Rowle, the man had never deserved the title of Dark Lord more than in that moment.

“Oh dear. Looks like our Hermione tuckered herself out last night,” Riddle said mildly. The viking spared the man a robotic nod, placing a hand on the copper pot that served as their portkey and pulled Hermione closer to his chest.  
Ignoring his son’s questions, Jorund made his way to the ministry floo to take Hermione back to Lestrange manor, directing his wife to get a Rowle elf to handle the girl’s trunk.

The man was met by a confused looking elf in the greeting foyer.

“You is giving Sunshine a moment to grab master,” the elf said quickly, a thundering of footsteps on a staircase indicating that the elf had grabbed Rodolphus.

“I thought Abraxas was bringing her back,” Rodolphus said from halfway down the hall. “He’s keyed into my study’s floo.”

“You might want to update your wards, then,” Jorund said with a drier tone than the moment required.

Rodolphus stepped into the room at that moment, a small smile on his face at the sight of what he believed to be a little girl who was exhausted after a fun trip.

“My girl is always tuckered out after she exerts herself for too long,” the man said, moving towards Hermione.

Rodolphus was alarmed by the other man’s flinch as he stepped closer, unaware of how close his words were to the man who’d allowed Hermione to get into such a state.

“Rodolphus, you need to know what happened this week. Hermione… Dolohov has the answers you need.”

Before he let his rage overtake him, Rowle handed his precious cargo over and stepped into the floo to head home. He couldn’t handle another moment more.

It only took a moment for Rodolphus to notice the bruises on Hermione’s tiny arms and the fingernail shaped indents that were just starting to scab over.

The man let out a ragged gasp, walking up to the girl’s room to get her changed out of a frilly dress and into a nightgown.

“Gildy, get Regulus for me now,” the man said quietly as he carefully dressed his precious treasure.

The man came in quickly, the smile he wore at the thought of seeing his beloved niece vanishing at his brother-in-law’s drawn face.

“I need Dolohov,” Rodolphus said with barely concealed rage. “They hurt her.”

Regulus looked down sharply at the pair. “How- her bracelet… it’s missing.”

The man steeled another breath. “I’ll go get him now.”

Both men were surprised that it only took two wands to the face with no spells cast for Dolohov to spill his guts, sharing everything that had occurred up until he left back to London.

“I’m sure the bitch had something to say to the girl before they parted. Not that it much mattered, girl was drugged halfway to hell before we’d even left the room last night.”

“Get the fuck out,” Rodolphus growled, the Russian slithering out of the room and out of sight before a wand could be drawn again.

Before the men could even process what they’d heard, a tiny elf popped into the room.

“Masters, Gildy is saying miss Hermy is needing you.”

Rodolphus headed up the stairs at lightning speed, not stopping until his girl was cradled in his arms. At some point, her sobs turned to her repeating the word daddy, each iteration a dagger in his heart.

“Daddy’s here, precious. I love you so much.”

It felt like hours before the girls tears subsided, making way for shivers. Rodolphus was quick to wrap Hermione up in her favorite blanket, cradling her on his lap in the rocking chair that had never left her room.

“My tummy hurts,” she croaked, looking up with bloodshot eyes.

“Gildy will get you something to calm your stomach,” he said, knowing the elf would do just that. After spoon feeding broth to Hermione, Rodolphus spoke again.

“Where is your bracelet, angel?”

“Uncle Tom has it,” she answered succinctly, providing Rodolphus the only answer he needed at the moment.

He pressed a kiss to her hair in lieu of a verbal answer, continuing to rock back and forth until Hermione let out another yawn.

“Tired, daddy,” she said.

“Go to sleep, precious,” he crooned. “Daddy will be here when you wake up.”  
She nodded, closing her eyes for only a moment before they popped back open.

“What’s a mudblood?” she asked innocently as though she were wondering what they were eating for dinner.

“Where did you hear that word?”

“Madam Lestrange said that’s what I am. Am I a mudblood, daddy?”

“No darling,” Rodolphus answered firmly. “You’re my precious, perfect girl. That’s a naughty word that no one should use.”

Hermione, ever inquisitive, looked as though she had more questions to ask, but closed her eyes and went off to dreamland.

It only took five hours for Abraxas to slither in, the man looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“Hermione is back safely, I presume?” he asked.

“No thanks to you, Malfoy. What the hell were you thinking, leaving her alone?”

He puffed up indignantly, “I’m the minister first, Lestrange. I was securing a deal to better all of our lives, you should be grateful for that.”

Rodolphus let out a derisive laugh. “At what cost? Hermione came back to me with bruises and finger marks on her arms. She was drugged on your watch, Malfoy. Get the fuck out of my house.”

Instead of getting angry, Abraxas took a breath and looked at the man in front of him as though he was a silly young boy.

“Son, sometimes the greater good comes at personal cost. It would do you well to remember that.”

The man sat with his hands in his head for a while, only looking up when the floo sounded once more.

“Rodolphus, I thought you’d be reacquainting with your daughter,” Tom said as he scourgified his robes.

“She’s sleeping,” the man said placidly, his respect and fear for the man keeping him calm.

Tom let out a patronizing chuckle, “Ah, to be young once more. She certainly dazzled our foreign counterparts. I dare even say that she was the reason we were so successful. She is truly a prize for our greater good.”

Rodolphus swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He could only nod, knowing anything he said would end poorly.

“My elf was unpacking my trunk and found Hermione’s bracelet. Silly girl must have taken it off at the hotel.”

“Thank you. It’s unlike her to be so forgetful, she rarely ever takes that off.”

The look they shared removed any question from Tom’s mind of Rodolphus’ knowledge of what had occurred in Barcelona.

“Unusual indeed. Well, be sure to give Hermione my love and thanks for her service to the greater good this week. We are all better off for her presence here.”

Much to Gildy’s dismay, Rodolphus had her make him a pallet on Hermione’s floor rather than waking the girl up to move her to his bed. Before climbing into the makeshift bed, the man made sure to put Hermione’s bracelet back on her wrist. For now, he needed sleep. Tomorrow, he’d make a trip to Gringotts and see what the goblins could do to keep greedy hands off his daughter’s person.

\---  
Rodolphus didn't waste a moment before having the elves gather up Bellatrix's belongings and remove her from the manor's wards. He knew it was only a matter of time before the woman found a way to confront him. “Did you think you’d throw me out without an explanation, husband?” Bellatrix fumed, storming up to the man in the Malfoy’s dining room for their weekly dinner. Rodolphus was annoyed as he thought of how he'd warned Lucius to re-ward his manor so they didn't find themselves in a scenario much like this one.

The sound of silverware clattering sounded in the room, Hermione having gone deathly pale.

“Come along darling, boys you as well,” Narcissa said decisively, standing up and grabbing the little girl’s hand. The three boys followed the pair out of the room quickly.

Bellatrix was outnumbered five to one, but she continued to shriek at Rodolphus.

“You should’ve been kicked out long ago, but I respected our fathers’ agreement. That was all thrown out the door when you hurt my girl, Bellatrix.”

The woman cackled, “She’s just a mudblood Rodolphus. You should be grateful she served such an important purpose for our Lord.”

“Shut the fuck up, Bella,” Rabastan said, standing up.

“Don’t get me started on your filthy spawn, muddying our family name,” she spat.

“That’s enough,” Lucius said with finality in his tone. “You are not welcome in my home Bellatrix, and your sister would agree with me. Hermione is family. You are a mere inconvenience. Severus, if you’d show her out.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” the man drawled.

“Fuck you, Rodolphus. You’ll regret this.”

“Burn in hell, witch.”

“I’ll make sure she does,” Rabastan promised, an angry gleam in his eyes. The quartet stood silent for a moment, relishing the finality of the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am one of those 'essential workers' who is working like a mad woman through this crisis. Stay safe, stay home, check in on your friends and loved ones. I'm sending lots of love!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com (two Ks). Here to chat and answer questions about this fic, as well as anything else that's on your mind. My tumblr is also bare because I don't know how to use it.
> 
> A note for this fic: world building is one of my priorities here. I honestly have everything planned out but my characters keep taking me on extended asides. I think this will end up being super long. Next chapter we will meet many people including Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley and the one and only Harry Potter. Get ready.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are definitely errors everywhere. Gratuitous playing around with illness to suit my needs. Please let me know what I've messed up. I am exhausted. Please stay home and stay inside! I hope you all are safe and healthy.

January 9, 1986

A girlish scream had Rodolphus running into Hermione’s playroom.

“Stop! Stop!I’m trying to helping you,” Draco said loudly as Rodolphus watched her slap his hands away in an uncharacteristic move.

“What’s going on?” Rodolphus asked, Rabastan skidding to a halt outside the room as well.

“We were eating mango and now she’s bleeding everywhere,” Draco said worriedly.

At the same time, Ruthy clucked her tongue. “Little miss is losing her first tooth! Is just a little blood.”

Rodolphus almost choked on his tongue as he knelt in front of his girl, still towering over her.

“Let me see, sweet pea,” he said, removing her thumb from where it was pressed against her now empty gum, uncaring of the blood dribbling down her chin.

“Think we’ll get you home now, Draco. Colin and Dennis are over at their grandmother’s,” Rabastan said with a small smile for the boy.

“What if she dies! I’m not going,” Draco scoffed, moving back in to be closer to the girl.

Rabastan covered his laugh well. “She’ll be fine, Draco. You’ve lost teeth and you’re just fine, right?”

“But she’s a girl,” the boy muttered. “Bye, Hermione. I’ll see you soon. Make sure you have ice cream. My father says it works better than potions after losing a tooth.”

Rabastan couldn’t help but bark out a laugh after that.

Hermione tore away from her father’s gentle hands to hug the boy, getting blood on his light blue oxford shirt. Rodolphus knew Narcissa would have kittens over that.

Rodolphus insisted on pressing gauze to stem the blood flow from where Hermione’s left front tooth previously sat. He was slightly nauseous at the way she experimentally stuck her tongue through the hole later in the day, endlessly amused at the gap.

“Why do I lose teeth, daddy? How will I eat?” She asked while eating ice cream for dinner. Uncle Lucie was smart, she’d said as she tucked into the frozen vanilla bean. Dennis and Colin were all too pleased at the idea of eating ice cream for dinner instead of the boring roast chicken their fathers were eating. It was only later that night that Colin made the awful realization that he’d be losing teeth like his cousin quite soon.

Regulus cut in for the sake of the morbidly curious adolescent trio before their questions got out of hand. “You're going to grow a new tooth back each time you lose one, my darling. This simply means you’re becoming a big girl and need teeth that reflect that.”

“We get new teeth every time we grow, papa?” Dennis asked, eyes wide.

“No,” Regulus said with a decisive headshake. He signed up to be a father, not a bloody child healer. “You only get one set of new teeth.”

“I have a lot more teeth to lose,” Hermione said with a frown. “Why couldn’t I lose them all at once?”

“Cause you’d look gross!” Dennis said, causing his older brother to giggle.

“Nuh uh” Hermione answered with narrowed eyes.

“I think everyone is in need of some quiet time before bed,” Rabastan said mildly.

“I want more ice cream, dad!” Colin said with a pout.

“I’m finished,” Hermione said with a pout on her lips.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” Rodolphus said, standing up at the head of the table to pull Hermione’s chair back. “Say goodnight to your cousins and uncles.”

“Goodnight,” Hermione said stiltedly.

“No kiss, darling?” Regulus asked, an amused smirk on his lips. The little girl stomped over to him in a manner that would give Narcissa a fit.

Good little girl she was, she gave her uncles a hug and kiss, sparing only a glare for her cousins before grabbing her father’s hand and flouncing out of the room. Rodolphus spared an amused look for his brothers.

Hermione was asleep in the bath before Rodolphus had even washed her hair, and he knew she’d sleep soundly through the night.

He was surprised to see Snape step out of his floo half past ten, an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty on his face.

“Sev, everything all right?” Rodolphus asked, standing up to see if the man was hurt.

“As fine as teaching potions to incompetent adolescents can be, I expect,” the man said drolly. “I heard that Hermione lost her first tooth today.”

Rodolphus raised an amused eyebrow, “Contrary to Draco’s belief, she is going to live through the night.”

“What a relief. Mungos would have quite the mystery on their hands, what with a death from losing a baby tooth.”

The Lestrange let out a laugh, letting silence settle over the pair as he awaited whatever Severus had to say.

“My father was a drunk, but he taught my mother much of his muggle heritage. I recall waking up to a galleon from the so-called tooth fairy under my pillow after losing my first. It’s popular in British muggle culture.”

“A fairy that takes teeth for money?” Rodolphus asked, judgement absent from his voice.

“Indeed,” Severus answered.

“Intriguing. I appreciate you sharing this facet of your life, Severus. It means a great deal.”

\---

“Daddy, daddy!” Hermione squealed the next morning, an already awake Rodolphus moving in at a sedate pace as though he didn’t know what was going on.

“Good morning, precious. Did you sleep well?” Rodolphus asked casually as he walked into the girl’s room.

“The tooth fairy came to visit me! I’ve never read about a tooth fairy!” she said exuberantly, smiling widely and showing her missing front tooth.

Rodolphus gasped, “The tooth fairy? What did she bring you?”

“A pouch of galleons and a book called Fairies: A Complete Guide! Can we read it now, daddy? Please!”

The book was from the Lestrange library, but Rabastan’s brilliant spellwork allowed them to add a fabricated chapter on the tooth fairy that they wrote in the dead of night. The trio would be exhausted all day, but it would be worth it seeing the look on their children’s faces.  
“Of course we can, sweet pea,” Rodolphus said, sitting on his girl’s bed and pulling her into his lap. It was all worth it.

July 9, 1987  
“If you recall, Rodolphus, you’re the one who asked,” Severus said in a clipped tone.

“I do recall what I asked moments ago, thank you Severus. All that I’m saying is I’m not sure it’s the best idea.”

“I rather like it,” Rabastan said, eyes on the gaggle of children as they played on the shore of the manor’s lake.

“I’m inclined to agree with Rabastan,” Narcissa said, much to the surprise of the other adults, including her husband.

“What?” she asked with a casual shrug. “I’d quite like to see a tiger. Don’t act like you all haven’t seen the animal encyclopedia Sirius had Kreacher give to Hermione for her birthday.”

Regulus let out a sigh, “Speaking of my wayward brother, should we invite him and the Potters? Safety in numbers and all that.”

Lucius looked quickly at Severus to gauge his thoughts, knowing of his tenuous relationship with the trio.

“I’m sure Lily would be thrilled to join us, and we can only make excuses as to why we can’t meet her son for so long,” Severus answered honestly.

It was Lucius who let out a sigh. “A day out with the family mutt and the Potters it is, then.”

July 13, 1987  
“Daddy! I’m just so excited,” Hermione said with a smile, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was dressed in a periwinkle lightweight dress with a peter pan collar with navy flats on her feet, her hair still wild and unbrushed. Rodolphus put his foot down when Lily Potter had suggested the girl wear open toed shoes like muggle girls her age. No daughter of his would have her feet susceptible to disease, muggle or otherwise.

“I know you are, precious. We’re running late and now you still need to eat breakfast, otherwise we aren’t going. Gildy will even bring it up here for you,” the man relented, pulling his daughter onto his lap in his study.”

“There’s a bird that normally lives in the ice and snow, but they live in London! How?”

“They have snow for the birds at the zoo, too. You’ll be able to learn more once we’re there,” Rodolphus patiently answered, having asked Severus these questions himself. The idea of entrapping creatures for the entertainment of muggles was morbid, and Rodolphus felt uncertain about what laid ahead.

“Gildy is bringing a big meal for little miss!” the elf said proudly, nodding gratefully as her master moved his documents to the side of his desk so she could put the tray down.

“Thank you Gildy,” Hermione said with a smile, the elf looked fondly at the girl before popping out of the room.

Pippet had just popped in to clean up the remains of their breakfast when the floo sounded.

Draco’s eyes were bright as he stepped out and headed towards Hermione. He was thwarted by his father, who stepped out of the floo and tapped his shoulder with the snake head of his cane. Narcissa followed closely behind, accepting Lucius’ extended hand with a crisp nod as she stepped out of the floo.

“I don’t recall your mother or I saying it was time to leave, Draco.”

The boy spared an embarrassed glance at Hermione who was watching the scene with amused eyes.

“Sorry father,” the boy said respectfully.

“Be sure to listen more carefully, son,” Lucius said, removing his grip on Draco’s shoulder. Draco nodded resolutely.

“Morning, Cissa, Lucius,” Rodolphus said. “Would you mind greeting our guests in the foyer? I’m afraid someone has us running a little late.”

Narcissa smiled fondly at the girl she considered a daughter, “Lucius would be happy to. I’ll go check in on Regulus and Rabastan to see if they need assistance.”

“Come, Draco,” Lucius said as he walked out of the study.

“Can I help with Hermione’s hair, uncle?” Draco asked, shuffling over to the pair.

The three adults shared an amused look. Draco’s fascination with Hermione’s hair had started when they were both infants, the pair often falling asleep with Draco’s hand fisted in her curls. A four-year-old Draco attempted to braid Hermione’s hair, leaving it so tangled that it took three full bottles of Sleekeazy’s to unknot his handiwork. After that, Rodolphus, Narcissa and Hermione’s elves took great care to show the boy the proper way to maintain her hair.  
“Of course,” Rodolphus said with a smile. “You can brush it before I put it in a french braid.”

Draco nodded seriously and followed Rodolphus to Hermione’s bedroom, giggling with the little girl over some private joke.

“Merlin do we have our hands full with those two, Cissy,” Lucius said to his wife.

“You act as though you weren’t fawning over me at his age, Lucius,” she said with a smirk at her husband as she made her way towards Rabastan’s wing of the home, knowing full well his eyes were on her figure as she donned muggle clothing for the first time.

“Be gentle, dragon,” Hermione warned, causing the blond boy to sputter incredulously.

“I’m always gentle, princess,” he responded, starting to brush her hair. The nickname was Draco’s favorite for the girl, having heard the title in a fairytale that his Uncle Regulus read and coining it for Hermione.

The girl blushed lightly, relishing the feel of being cared for so well. Between Draco, her daddy, her aunt, uncles and elves, she never had to do her own hair. Hermione was glad not to have to sort out the mess of curls herself, knowing it always ended with her in tears.

“There,” Draco said with a satisfied smirk. “Perfectly brushed.”

“Good work, Draco,” Rodolphus said, taking Draco’s spot and kneeling down behind Hermione’s chair.

“Are you sure I can’t try?” the boy asked.

Rodolphus shook his head, “Not today. It’s quite muggy out, and if her hair falls out it’ll be difficult to put it back up.”

Draco nodded, standing closely to watch Rodolphus’ deft braiding technique.

“All set!” Rodolphus clapped, standing up and offering his daughter a hand.

Downstairs, an enthusiastic Colin was questioning a scrawny boy with black hair and round glasses who could only be Harry Potter and a boy with bright red hair she’d never seen before.

“There she is!” Sirius exclaimed loudly, running to pick up Hermione and twirl her around. The girl let out a squeal, the rambunctious man a change in pace from the rest of her family members.

“Hi Uncle Sirius,” she said with a beatific smile, staring up at the man who looked so much like her Uncle Reggie. The man came into their lives last summer after Hermione had a Vision that rocked her to her core.

_Rodolphus ran down the hall as soon as he heard Hermione scream, opening the door to watch her thrash under her bright pink duvet while five elves watched in horror._

_The man pushed the elves out of his way, climbing into the tiny bed and gently gripping the girl’s limbs to hold them still._

_“Daddy’s here, precious. You’re okay,” Rodolphus cooed over and over again until the girl’s eyes popped open._

_“Grandma’s gone,” Hermione sobbed, wrapping her arms tightly around the man._

_His blood went cold, knowing he was completely unequipped to handle this scenario. He didn’t even want to ask if she meant Grandma Black or Grandma Malfoy, knowing that he’d only make her more emotional._

_“When you can, tell me what you Saw.”_

_His tough girl took a few breaths before speaking. “Uncle Reggie was standing and the people said sorry. Then a man who looked like him came and they cried. The man said he missed his brother.”_

_“How old did your uncle look?”_

_That’s when her cries intensified, “The same.”_

_Not taking the time to internalize her words, Rodolphus continued asking questions. “Did anyone say why grandma had to go?”_

_Hermione nodded, “Yeah, Uncle Reggie told the man the store gave her the wrong potion.”_

_Rodolphus felt relieved. “We can fix that, sweetheart. We’ll have your Uncle Sev brew grandma’s potions going forward and she’ll be just fine.”_

_Hermione looked at him as though he hung the moon before pulling him into a tight hug. “I love you daddy, thank you!”_

_“Of course, sweet pea. Anything for you.”_

_“Can I sleep with Uncle Reggie?” she asked, taking his last words a step too far._   
_Rodolphus sighed, “Your uncles won’t be happy, but sure. Grab Fire and we’ll go.”_

_Hermione grabbed her beloved stuffed dragon, a gift from Draco, and giggled as her daddy picked her up._

_The trip to Regulus and Rabastan’s bedroom was quick, Rodolphus quickly popping his head in to make sure the men were decent before dropping Hermione on her feet._

_He pressed a kiss to her hair, “I love you, goodnight baby.”_

_“Night daddy, love you,” she said before climbing over Rabastan to nuzzle against Regulus’ bare chest._

_The man’s eyes slowly blinked open, “Darlin, what you need?”_

_She giggled at his slurred words, “Need you, Uncle Reggie. Love you, goodnight.”_

_Regulus pressed a kiss to her forehead, enveloping the small girl in his arms before letting sleep take him into its grasp once more._

_Rabastan was surprised to feel soft curls tickling his nose when he woke up, knowing that Hermione slept with him and his husband once in a while, but it was never impromptu. He also knew his brother would lose his shit if he didn’t already know his girl was out of bed._

_“Good morning, little girl,” Rabastan said in a sing-song voice, sticking a hand in Hermione’s curls and shaking them._

_The girl let out a groan, pressing her face tighter into Regulus’ chest._

_“I don’t think you were invited here,” Rabastan continued. “Tell me why you’re here or I’ll kick your sweet booty off the bed.”_

_“No you won’t,” she giggled. “Daddy would get mad. And booty is a bad word.”_

_Regulus snorted._

_Rabastan gasped dramatically, “You just said a bad word then, Hermione! I’m telling Roddy unless you tell us why you’re here.”_

_Hermione’s eyes suddenly turned serious. “I Saw grandma going away forever last night, but daddy says we can help her.”_

_The men shared a look over her head, both of them thinking that Walburga dying wouldn’t be the worst thing._

_“Do you have a brother, Uncle Reggie?” she asked, although she already knew the answer._

_He nodded seriously. “I do, his name is Sirius.”_

_“Serious?” she asked, lips pursed._

_“Sirius. S-I-R-I-U-S.”_

_“Like the star,” they said at the same time, sharing a small smile._

_“He was there. He said he was sorry for not talking to you. I think you should be friends again, Uncle Reggie.”_

_Regulus inhaled sharply, “That’s quite a Vision for such a little girl. Thank you for telling me, darling. I have a lot to think about.”_

_The moment of silence that followed was broken when Dennis and Colin came in to jump on the bed, telling their fathers and cousin it was time for breakfast._

“All ready?” Lily Potter asked the group at-large, a smile on her face. “We’ll floo to the Leaky, and there’ll be a tour bus waiting for us there.”

Narcissa looked at her husband in confusion, taking his hand when he offered it.

Rodolphus and Hermione were the last pair to floo, the man speaking to his daughter quietly while the others went through.

“What are the rules?” he asked, knowing by now that both him and Hermione felt at ease with clear expectations.

“Always hold someone’s hand, listen to the adults, don’t talk to strangers, and don’t touch anything unless daddy says it’s all right.”

“So smart,” Rodolphus praised.

The tour bus was just as pedestrian as it sounded, and Lucius scourgified two rows of bench seats, gesturing for his wife and Hermione to sit in them before he and his son sat down.

Draco sat on the bench seat next to Hermione, watching his godfather put on a weird metal contraption in the row of seats across from him before following his father’s lead and fumbling with Hermione’s before doing his own.

“Thank you,” Hermione said with a small smile.

“Of course,” Draco said with a self-important nod before turning around to the pair of boys he had yet to meet, the stretchy material strapped onto him allowing him to peek his head above the seats.

“You must be Potter. Who are you?” he asked obtrusively.

“Ron Weasley,” the boy said through a mouthful of crisps. “You’re Draco. Who’s the girl?”

“Malfoy to you,” Draco answered haughtily, hackles up at the boy’s flippant regard of his princess. “Her name is Miss Hermione Lestrange.”

“Hermione,” he said, as though he was tasting both the crisps and her name in his mouth. “I like it.”

The girl in question stayed sat in her seat, knowing her father would be upset if she stood up and the machine started moving forward as she knew it would. And, of course, she knew her Draco had the conversation well in hand.

“Howdy there! My name is Buster, I’ll be takin ya to the zoo today. Back in Texas where I’m from, you just step outside if you want to see animals,” a man in a weird hat with an even weirder accent said.

Hermione giggled as Draco plopped back down and whispered, “Why does he sound like that?”

“Be nice!” the girl admonished.

“Now get your seatbelts on, this bus is about to leave the station!” the man said, leaving everyone but the Potter clan, Severus and Sirius confused.

Hermione let out a gasp as they started moving, staring out the window in wonder.

“What are they doing? They’ll get hurt!” Draco exclaimed as the car stopped suddenly, a large swath of people crossing the street.

“It’s called a stoplight,” Severus explained. “Vehicles stop so that people can cross the street.”

“That’s tosh,” Draco said vehemently.  
“Did you know that so many people were alive?” Hermione asked Draco.

The boy thought for a moment. “I didn’t. There are a lot more muggles than wizards, though.”

“I wonder why,” the girl mused.

“We’re special, so there are less of us. Not everyone is lucky enough to have magic,” Draco said, parroting back a line he’d heard from his father.

“But why us? How were we picked?”

“Our families were picked special at the dawn of magic. We’ve always had it,” Draco said as if it was that simple.

Hermione remained quiet, content to stare out the window at the countless people who were walking through the streets of London. Draco shot an arm out across Hermione’s chest, saving her from nose diving into the time-worn fabric of the bench seat in front of them. She smiled gratefully at the blond.

“Here we are! You go and have fun, I’ll be waiting here for ya. Make sure you kiddos grab an elephant ear,” Buster said with a smile.

Hermione and Draco shared a horrified look, having spent hours perusing the animal encyclopedia her uncle had gotten her. An elephant’s ear was the last thing they wanted to eat.

Lily and James were first off, smiling and thanking the driver.

Draco was less than pleased when Rodolphus came to unbuckle Hermione, waving the boy off in front of him and picking the girl up as they walked off the bus. Once down, he made to cast a quick scourgify on her hands and dress.

“Mr. Lestrange, no!” Lily piped up, scurrying over to them with a meek smile. “Use this.”

“What is that?” Rodolphus asked, looking at the odd tube in her hands.

“It’s called hand sanitizer. It kills the germs on your hands. Trust me,” she said with another small smile. “It smells like cherries.”

Rodolphus held his hands out first, following the woman’s instructions to rub them together after the liquid plopped onto his palm. He gestured for Hermione to do the same, his girl sweetly thanking the red headed woman.

The man put on a brave face for Hermione as they made their way into the zoo, the little girl lifting her arms up to him the moment they’d seen the crowd waiting to get into the zoo. He was grateful to have her reassuring weight in his arms, and stuck close to the group as they made their way to the gates.

“All right!” Potter clapped as they finally got inside the zoo. “Where to first, kids?”

“Snakes!” Weasley exclaimed.

“Bugs!” Dennis and Colin answered simultaneously.

“Hermione is the only girl, she gets to choose,” Harry said quietly, causing Draco to clench his teeth at not being the one to suggest that.

“Where to, poppet?” Sirius asked with a smile at the girl.

“Penguins, please,” she said with a shy smile.

The spectacled man fumbled with a small piece of paper that he opened into a large map. “Ah, there they are. Let’s head to penguin beach, straight to the left! Stay together, now.”

The penguin exhibit was less of a beach and more of a breeding ground for germs. There were hundreds of families surrounding the pool the creatures sat in, many of them with screaming children.

A perturbed expression crossed both Hermione and Narcissa’s faces at the size of the crowd, causing the girl to grip her father’s shoulder tightly.

Regulus let out an exasperated sigh as his husband and sons zigzagged through the crowd with his brother, choosing to walk at a more sedate pace with the Malfoys and Rodolphus.

“May I say this is worse than I expected?” Lucius drawled as he led the group through the crowd, a possessive arm wrapped around his wife’s tiny waist.

“Only if I can say I told you so,” Severus deadpanned back, causing Narcissa to giggle at her husband’s expense.

They found their group by following the sound of exuberant adults, Regulus letting out another sigh at the sight of his brother rapping his knuckles on the glass to the delight of the kids.

Hermione took in the sight in front of her, the water lapping against large glass panels that separated her from the penguins.

“Why are they behind the glass?” Hermione asked her father, lips pursed in confusion.

The man looked to Severus in deference.

“The barriers are to keep the animals inside and still allow people to view them,” the man said, knowing full well the girl wouldn’t appreciate the answer.

“I didn’t know that,” she said quietly. “They should be in the ocean, not here. That’s not very nice to keep them away.”

The adults shared a look, knowing their only answer wasn’t sufficient for their idealistic, by-the-books Hermione.

Hermione only got more upset as they traversed the zoo, reaching a breaking point when she saw the primate exhibit.

“We have to help them, daddy,” she said through tears, her cerulean eyes tearing a hole in Rodolphus’ very soul. “My book said chimpanzees are almost as smart as humans.”

The man felt helpless, and was mulling over how to respond when Lucius spoke up.

“You there,” Lucius’ voice rang out authoritatively, his fingers snapping at an employee in a red polo.

“Yes, sir?” the teenager answered, looking nervous and shifting his broom from one hand to another.

“Find me the mu- person who has the keys to this entrapment.”

The boy had a confused look on his face. “Um, sir, I just clean the floors.”

“Find me someone with the ability to help, at once!”

The boy nodded before stumbling off, leaving an increasingly angry Lucius behind.

As if Rodolphus’ temper wasn’t already on edge, Sirius made his way over to the group.

“When are you going to let my Hermione go enjoy herself with the other kids?” the man asked. “She’s not going to break into pieces if she has fun. C’mon, Mione.”

Rodolphus grit his teeth at the shortening of his girl’s name.

“Would you like to go with your uncle? Draco will stay with you.” Rodolphus asked, attempting a smile for the girl.

“Okay,” she said after a moment’s thought, taking her uncle’s hand once her father placed her on the ground.

Rodolphus’ stomach clenched as the girl was swallowed up in a crowd of people, though he was closely following the back of Sirius’ head to keep tabs on the group.

“I tried to give this place the benefit of the doubt, but truly… it’s unspeakably awful,” Narcissa said with a grimace as yet another screaming child pushed past her.

“It’s like the muggles sat around a table and said, let’s create the worst place our minds could possibly think up,” Regulus said drily, drawing laughs from his friends.

“Usually I’m all for the children having their fun, but I’m quite worried they’ll catch something,” Narcissa said with a frown.

“I’m sure the elves would be delighted to scrub them down before they come inside,” Severus tried to joke, only to receive serious nods from the Malfoys and Regulus. Rodolphus, however, would rather catch whatever muggle disease Hermione caught than allow her to get scrubbed down outside.

“I truly can’t fathom how anyone has fun here,” Rodolphus said, shaking his head. “It’s crowded, muggy, loud and smells rancid.”

“Be grateful we didn’t take you to a theme park,” Severus answered drily.

“I don’t think I even want to know what that is,” Lucius sniffed.

While the group of adults stewed in their misery, Hermione was pulled into a gathering of rambunctious wizards.

“Hi there Hermione!” Harry said with a smile. “Look! Those are called gorillas. My mum says they look quite cross but wouldn’t hurt you.”

“They look sad,” the girl said pensively, blue eyes trained on the powerful looking animals.

“They look bored. Don’t worry, I’ll help,” the red-headed boy said, walking up to the glass panel and beginning to knock loudly. “Hey! Do something!”

Hermione let out an outraged noise, “Stop it! Can’t you see they don’t like it. Stop!”

Draco reacted without thinking, pushing the boy away from the exhibit. Ron’s face turned an unattractive purple, letting out a loud squawk in protest to his treatment.

“What’s going on here?” Lily Potter asked, walking over to the quartet with her hands on her hips.

“He pushed me!” Ron said loudly, a stubby finger pointed at Draco.

“Only because he was making Hermione sad!” Draco retorted, crossing his arms across his chest as he stepped closer to Hermione.

Lily bent down closer to the kids’ level at this, her warm green eyes peering into Hermione’s. If the little girl was paying closer attention, she would’ve noticed a deep sadness and longing in the woman’s expression.

“What upset you, sweetheart?”

The girl looked down shyly before speaking. “He was banging on the glass and making the gorillas sad. I said stop and he kept going!”

Harry’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, looking back and forth as though he were watching a particularly fast-paced quidditch match.

“Ron, I have already told you that we don’t tap on the exhibits. Please apologize to Hermione for upsetting her, then we can go have lunch.” the muggleborn said diplomatically.

“I’m not saying sorry to her!” the boy said, outraged.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ron. I’ll have to talk to your mother about this,” Lily said, standing up.

“Let’s go grab some food, everyone stay together.”

“Thank you, dragon,” Hermione said to the boy, knocking her shoulder against where it reached his bicep.

“No one can be mean to you,” Draco responded emphatically, channeling the way his father spoke to his mother.

“Up we go, little girl,” Sirius said as he appeared with James. “Can’t have you getting lost and making your daddy upset. Follow along now, Draco.”

Hermione rested her head on her uncle’s shoulder, running her fingers through his soft hair as she closed her eyes for a moment.  
“I believe you ordered one sleeping little girl,” Sirius said as he gently transferred the girl into Rodolphus’ lap. Hermione could fall asleep anywhere, especially after the slightest bit of physical activity. As Severus had noted, she was made for a life of leisure, never tiring while reading a book. Yet, take her on a walk outside and she’d be out cold for hours.

Rodolphus kissed her braided hair, trying not to shudder and jostle her as he took in the interior of the restaurant Potter had directed them to. There were at least six lines that people had to wait in to place their order, the menu showing foods that Rodolphus had never seen before. He’d sent his brother up to order for himself and Hermione, knowing he’d pick the least offensive muggle food.

Lucius sent Severus and Draco up to order while the man laid out layers of cheap looking imitation napkins on a bright red chair before pulling it out for his wife. Despite the man’s protective measures, Narcissa did not look amused.

“I’m so glad we could find two tables next to each other!” the Potter woman said, a bright smile on her face. “The kids will love the food here, they have dinosaur nuggets that Harry loves.”

“A what?” Narcissa asked, her curiosity outweighing her need to look all-knowing.

“Oh, they’re breaded pieces of chicken shaped like animals!”

“Charming,” Lucius said stiltedly, trying his hardest to play nice. “You come into the muggle world often?”

“We do, my parents are much more comfortable taking Harry around muggle London than taking lunch in Diagon Alley. We’ve found ourselves a happy medium that suits us well.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Narcissa responded with a small smile.

“Do you have more of your sanitary cream to share, Lady Potter?” Rodolphus asked as he noted Rabastan and company nearing the front of the line.

“Hand sanitizer? Of course, here you are,” she said and squirted a large dollop on his hands. He took Hermione’s hands in between his own to rub the liquid into her skin as well, the girl only moving slightly at the touch.

Rodolphus zoned out as the woman explained what the cream was to the Malfoys, focusing on waking Hermione back up. He just hoped the girl didn’t cry, knowing they had at least an hour left at the zoo.

“Precious, it’s time to wake up,” Rodolphus murmured into the girl’s ear. “Your uncle is bringing you some lunch right now.”  
Hermione let out an irritated whine at being woken up, nuzzling closer to her father’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Hermione, time to wake up. You can nap once we’re home, I promise.”

The girl slowly opened her eyes, the first sight she saw being her Uncle Lucius.

“Hello, my angel. Did you have a good rest?” Lucius asked with an indulgent smile that only grew at Hermione’s response.

“No,” she said with a pout. “I want to go home, I don’t like it here.”

“Yet another thing we agree on, my dear,” Lucius replied.

“Here we are! Boys, sit at the other table with Harry, please,” Rabastan ordered as he juggled two trays of food, setting one down in front of his older brother.

“What is this?” Rodolphus asked with a disgusted look.

“Ah, it’s fish and chips for you, and dysonaur nuggets for Hermione.”

“Dinosaur, Rab,” Sirius said as he walked by with his own tray to sit with the Potters, Ron, Dennis, Colin and Regulus.

The man looked at Lucius and Narcissa to see them in a similar situation. Rodolphus decided to give Hermione his fried cod after taking a bit and confirming it was edible. His girl struggled with the odd, flimsy utensils the restaurant provided, but was eventually able to eat a sizable portion of the fish.

Needing to quench his curiosity, Rodolphus took a bit of the ‘nuggets’ and gagged. It was a no from him.

“It’s good with the red sauce,” Draco said through a mouthful of food, causing his father to yank his ear.

“I’m finding I’m not that hungry,” Rodolphus said quietly, joining most of the adults in ignoring their trays.

Rodolphus was singularly grateful for Lily Potter to call out that it was time for them to head back to the bus, keeping an eye on Hermione who was swinging Rabastan and Sirius’ hands back and forth as she walked.

“At least we know they’ll sleep soundly tonight,” Narcissa said with a sigh, pulling close to her husband’s side in the large crowd headed towards the exit.  
“Who knew muggle activities could be so draining,” Rodolphus murmured.

The man was grateful when they got back to the Leaky Cauldron, leaving the Potters, Ron and Sirius to eat dinner at the dingy joint after a polite goodbye.

“Goodbye, my little kitten,” Sirius said, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s cheek from where she was perched in his arms.

“Bye Uncle Sirius!” she said with a giggle as she hugged him back.

A shy looking Harry Potter greeted Hermione once she was back on the ground.

“Bye Hermione,” Harry said with a blush. “I hope we can play again soon. We have a cat named Ghost at my house.”

“I’ve never seen a cat outside of my books,” the girl said, looking at the boy.

“He’d want to play with you,” the boy said.

“Your ruddy cat always scratches me, Harry,” Ron said, walking up to the other two.

“He’d like Hermione,” Harry said with confidence.

“Boys, it’s time to order,” James called over to the pair, earning Hermione one last wave from Harry and a final eye roll from Ron.

“Time to go,” Severus said, picking up Hermione. The girl looked back to see her daddy talking to an exuberant Dennis, the boy talking loudly and waving his arms back and forth under his armpits.

“Did you have fun, Uncle Sev?” the girl asked as she lay her head on the man’s shoulder, patting the top of his head twice much to his amusement.

The man paused for a moment, taking this as yet another learning moment for dealing with children he actually liked.

“I enjoyed spending time with you, but I am not a fan of large crowds. Did you have fun, little one?”

Hermione shook her head immediately. “I didn’t like the animals being put away. They should be playing where they live.”

“Where they’re supposed to live,” Severus corrected, always seizing the opportunity to increase the girl’s already impressive vocabulary. “Well, many people enjoy seeing animals at the zoo since they can’t go to where the animals normally live.”

“Why do people get to choose what animals do?” she asked, lips pursed in contemplation.

“Well, muggles have ways that they can control animals which allow them to lord over them,” Severus answered slowly.

“What ways?”

“That’s a conversation for when you’re older,” Severus said, already knowing the girl would push back.

“That’s not fair, I want to know now!”

“Life isn’t fair,” Severus answered emphatically, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s hair to lighten his harsh words as he finally stepped into the floo and called out Lestrange manor.

Severus was amused to see the boys being taken outside immediately to be hosed down, his friends following his sarcastic suggestion.

“Let’s get you in the bath, precious,” Rodolphus said as he moved to transfer Hermione into his arms. “Severus, if you’d like to change and come back, we’ll have dinner shortly.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I am looking forward to a quiet night at home,” the man said, giving Hermione a final wave goodbye before hopping in the floo.

Hermione’s bath was quicker than normal, and the girl was extremely surprised when her father dressed her in a teal sleeping gown.

“I can go downstairs in pajamas?” she asked tentatively.

The man chuckled, “Yes, you can. We’ve had a very long day, and I would rather you be ready for bed now than put up a fuss later.”

“I don’t fuss, daddy,” she said with playfully narrowed eyes, walking past the man towards the stairs.

The rest of her family was already sitting around the dining room table when the pair walked in, the men immediately standing at the little lady’s entrance and Lucius pulling out her chair to help her sit.

“Thank you, Uncle Lucie,” she said with a bright smile, eyes widening at the sight of Draco’s wet hair and new outfit. “Did you take a bath too, Draco?”

The boy grumbled, “I was hosed down like a horse outside your home.”

The girl let out a loud giggle. “Daddy gave me a bath inside.”

“I want to take baths outside forever!” Dennis piped up, causing Rabastan to chuckle.

“Not me,” Draco muttered, trying not to be pleased at making Hermione laugh again.

Hermione eagerly ate the roast chicken and potatoes that Kreacher placed in front of her, the crotchety elf lurking around the dining room after a long day with no one to serve.

As Rodolphus predicted, Hermione was falling asleep before dessert was even served. He picked her up before her recently washed curls could end up with potatoes in them, carrying her upstairs.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” Draco said with a wave to the slowly blinking girl.

“She’s not a princess,” Colin said with a giggle at the boy.

“She is,” Draco said obstinately. “You don’t know anything.”

“Settle down, there. Looks like we’ve got some tired boys on our hands. Say goodnight, Dennis and Colin,” Rabastan said, making the executive decision to can dessert.

“Night night,” the boys said with a wave, having enough energy to bound up the stairs while their fathers walked slowly behind them.

“Kreacher is bringing the esteemed Malfoys dessert?” the old elf asked, eyes wide at the thought of an incomplete meal.

“If you wouldn’t mind leaving two plates in Lucius’ study, that would be lovely,” Narcissa said as she stood up.

“Anything for Lady Malfoy, precious daughter of the House of Black!” the elf said, taking off at a sprint into the kitchen.

“He’s weird,” Draco said, eyes still trained on the kitchen door that was slowly closing.

“Kreacher has a good heart, Draco,” Narcissa said as she grabbed her son’s hand.

“That’s one way to describe it,” Lucius muttered as he walked behind the pair, raising a placating hand at his wife’s sharp look.

The heat of the summer gave the family two lazy days that Rodolphus thoroughly enjoyed. The question of why things couldn't stay relatively calm came to his mind just days later.

Hermione woke up with a start, wondering why she felt like she hadn’t slept for a moment. Before she could really think about it, her instincts had her running to the bathroom where she threw up everything that was in her stomach.

“Oh, poor little mistress!” Ruthy said as she popped into the room, magically braiding the girl’s hair back.

“Daddy,” the girl choked out between her heaves. Gildy popped into the man’s study where he was getting an early start to let him know what was going on.

“Ruthy is saying little miss is not so well!” Gildy said quickly before holding out a hand and apparting the man to the bathroom where Hermione was now dry heaving.

“That’s a girl, let it out,” Rodolphus cooed as the girl began to dry heave.

“Water,” Hermione finally croaked. Ruthy handed over a cup she’d been holding with a straw, anxious to do something remotely helpful.

“Swish and spit, baby. You can’t drink right now,” Rodolphus directed, remembering the words of his mother when Rabastan had a stomach sickness in his fourth year. The girl groaned as she followed the instructions, much like Rodolphus remembered his brother doing.

The bathroom was silent except for the sound of Hermione’s breathing until she laid down miserably, her forehead burning through Rodolphus’ silk sleep pants.

“Oh sweet pea, you’re burning up,” Rodolphus said frantically, looking to the trio of elves still present for the answers he didn’t have.

“Miss is needing a cool soak while we is calling Healer Davies!” Gildy said, taking control like she was born for it. She wasn’t made head elf because she was shy and timid, the elf thought to herself.

Rodolphus was losing his mind by the time the girl was dressed in an airy white sleeping gown, now shivering even though her forehead was still burning up. What kind of sickness was this?

“About time,” Rodolphus snapped at the healer as he walked in, rubbing Hermione’s back as she vomited into a basin.

“What seems to be the problem, Lord Lestrange?” the man asked, ignoring Rodolphus’ anger as he was paid a sizable retainer to do.

“She woke up an hour ago vomiting, her forehead is piping hot and now she’s shivering after a cold bath.”

“Let’s get a good look at this little one’s diagnostics,” the healer narrated, smiling comfortingly as the girl curled up on the large man’s lap.

“Ah yes, a 38.8 degree fever and a upset tummy will make for one sick little girl,” the attractive wizard cooed.

“What’s wrong with her? Was it the muggles?”

“What muggles?” the healer asked as he dug through his leather carrying case, vials clinking.

Rodolphus took a shuddering sigh and ran a shaking hand through his girl’s sweat-soaked curls.

“We went to a muggle zoo two days ago, if you’re familiar.”

“I am vaguely familiar, animals and the like. Did she eat? Did she touch anything?”

“She ate a bit of fish and chips at lunch, but not much. And of course she touched things- she’s a child.”

The healer held up placating hands, “My job requires me to ask questions, sir. How often do you take her into muggle crowds?”

Rodolphus scoffed, “Never. I can count the amount of times she’s been out in either our world or theirs on two hands.”

The man clucked his tongue, “Bear with me hear, Lord Lestrange. Have you heard of what the muggles call an immune system?”

“Never.”

“An immune system is what prevents or limits infection or sickness in our bodies. We all have one, most of us have strong enough systems to prevent illness. The trick is, muggles say, that immune systems are built over time. Every playdate as a child, every vacation, every trip to Diagon Alley… all opportunities for your system to grow its defenses against the germs that are out there.”

“So what are you saying? My Hermione is sick because she isn’t gallivanting with strangers?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying, sir. We see this in the few daughters in our community, usually the first time they are around a large crowd for an extended period of time… much like Hermione.”

“How are you going to make her better?”

“Well, she has what the muggles call the flu. F-L-U is the spelling on that. The virus lives on surfaces, such as the tables in the restaurant you ate at and the glass of animal exhibits. Unfortunately, it also travels by sneezing and coughing. There are many ways she could’ve gotten sick, but thankfully we’ll have her healthy in a jiff.”

“Just tell me what I need to do to make her better,” Rodolphus said, head spinning.

“Well, first, I’ll give you the potion to guard against you getting the flu yourself. Second, we’ll get her an antiviral potion that will start to fight the virus. Unfortunately, you can expect a few days of vomiting, diarrhea, aches, and coughs. A recipe for a very cranky little girl, but she’ll be up and running around before you know it.”

Davies left after administering the potions, leaving two vials of the anti-flu potion with one of the elves in case someone else needed it.

Rodolphus was run ragged after one day of the flu, having dealt with more body fluids than he ever thought he’d have to after Hermione was potty trained. Regardless, he shooed the elves every time they tried to get him to go sleep in his own bed or eat a full meal, singularly focused on nursing his girl back to health.

The man couldn’t help but be enraged at the fact that not one other person who’d gone to the zoo was sick - not even a measly cough. Were women truly just more fragile than men? And if that were true, why weren’t Lily and Narcissa sick?

Had he cursed his daughter for ripping her from her muggle life? There was a sick irony in Hermione getting sick while partaking in a muggle child’s rite of passage. It was as though nothing he did was sufficient- he was almost as fucked up as his own father, unable to keep his family safe.

Night four brought tearless sobs, his little girl too tired and worn out to do anything but cry herself to sleep. It was a testament to the previous four days that Rodolphus and the elves were overjoyed that the girl even had the energy to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Rodolphus whispered into her hair, feeling more broken than anyone under 30 had the right to be. “Daddy loves you. I’m so sorry.”

\----  
“You’re asking me to take Hermione on muggle excursions?” Severus asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Rodolphus said, face impassive.

“Because I have so much spare time? I love the girl, Rodolphus, but why would I agree to this.”

“Severus… Healer Davies said that she won’t be able to even live at Hogwarts if we don’t start socializing her. This would allow her to build her so-called immune system and have a slice of her heritage. I trust no one else but you.”

“These will occur on my time, on my watch. No complaining,” Severus said rather than asked.

Rodolphus was the picture of innocence. “No complaining. Just know that I will kill you if she comes back with a hair harmed on her pretty head.”

“I wouldn’t dream of returning her in anything less than her adorable, know-it-all that we know and love. Perhaps just a bit healthier and more worldly.”

“That’s what I’m counting on, Snape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working, still dreaming up this story. I definitely have one or two more chapters left before Hogwarts because the plot bunnies continue to build up in my brain. I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Message me on tumblr at /thiscitychickk


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all! I wanted to get this up and didn't read it over... please let me know any and all inconsistencies and mistakes! and please review. I want to write more when you review more! stay safe, stay healthy, stay engaged with your loved ones.

**June 21, 1990**

“I’m staying home with you,” Hermione said, uncharacteristically angry.

“You can’t stay home, precious. Please just listen to daddy,” the man begged, tired from having the same conversation over and over again.

“I’m not going!” she shouted, her curls crackling with latent magic as she stomped up the stairs and into her room as she had the past two days.

“Bloody hell,” Rodolphus sighed as he put his head in his hands. He couldn’t do this anymore.

The man called an elf, asking them to grab the only person he thought could talk sense into his girl.

Hermione was pouting on her bed, covered in her favorite faux-fur blanket that Uncle Severus bought her on one of their many excursions to muggle London. She had been elated to find out that muggle shops, department stores, her uncle called them, had more items than she could ever imagine. It made clothes shopping Diagon Alley a little less fun knowing what lay outside the Leaky Cauldron.

There was a single knock on her door before it swung open, and her Uncle Severus swooped in with a swirl of his black robes.

“What is this I hear about you incessantly whining and acting insolent towards your father?” the man asked as he sat on the rocking chair in the corner of Hermione’s room.

“He’s being mean to me,” the girl said, still pouting.

“Fix your lip, little girl,” the man ordered sharply. “That won’t work on me. Why the theatrics?”

“Daddy says I have to go to summer camp this summer,” she answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What’s wrong with attending camp?” 

“I like spending time with daddy and my uncles and my elves. I don’t want to go, Hermione knows it will be bad for her.”

Snape leveled her with a look. “How is your Grandmother Walburga?”

“She’s good! We had tea with Aunt Narcissa yesterday. Gemmy made her chocolate eclairs.”

“I remember a little girl crying to me that Grandmother Walburga was going to die if I didn’t make her potions. Do you recall?”

“Of course,” she answered, an affronted look scrunching up her pretty face. “But we changed what I Saw!”

Severus couldn’t help but smile, having caught the girl in his trap. “We did change what you Saw. That’s why you’re going to camp; your Sight is not concrete, Hermione. There is a chance that what you Saw long ago is not what will occur. There will be no more argument, you’re running your father ragged and I’ve had enough of your antics.”

The girl looked down, blushing. Feeling suitably chastened, she whispered an apology.

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, Hermione. You’ll wash up for dinner and apologize to your father.”

“Yes, Uncle Severus,” the girl said, standing up and curtsying cheekily at the man.

Severus walked into the dining room where Rodolphus was pacing and making the elves setting the table extremely nervous.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” the man replied, hiding his amusement. “I deal with bratty children every day, Rodolphus. Why not deal with another one on my only day off?”

Rodolphus clapped the man on the shoulder, smiling. The moment ended as Colin and Dennis ran into the room, Sunshine and Rose, their nanny elves right behind them.

“Hiya Uncle Sev!” Colin said with a beaming grin.

“Yeah! Hi!” Dennis mimicked.

“Hello boys. Ready for dinner?”

“We’re so hungry! Sunshine didn’t let us have any snacks for the whole day,” Colin complained with a sharp look at the elf.

Sunshine put her hands on her hips.

“Sunshine is giving you celery, raisins, apples and crisps! You is a troublemaker, Mr. Colin!”

“You’ve got that one right,” Rabastan said as he walked into the room with his husband in tow, both of their hair looking the wrong side of bedhead.

Rodolphus looked at the pair down his nose, Regulus having the decency to look down while Rabastan winked.

“Severus, what brings you back from your humble abode?” Rabastan asked as they sat down.

“I was called in to have a conversation with my favorite niece,” the man said.

“She’s your only niece, Uncle Sev,” Colin said with a giggle.

“Ah, and how did that conversation go?” Regulus asked curiously.

“I’m going to camp,” the girl said quietly as she trudged into the room.

“What was that?” Rabastan asked with false innocence.

“I’m going to camp!” Hermione exclaimed, looking at her uncle impatiently.

“Wow! Sounds like you’re going to have a fun summer, Mi,” Rabastan said with sincerity.

Rodolphus kept his eyes on Hermione, which is why he noticed her guilty looks throughout the meal. It looked as though Severus’ conversation left him with one penitent little girl. 

After dessert, leftover eclairs from yesterday’s ladies tea, the group split up quickly. Rodolphus was grateful to be able to have this conversation with Hermione in peace, knowing that his brothers and the Malfoys saw most parenting decisions as group decisions.

Once in the privacy of his study, Hermione threw herself into the man’s arms.

“I’m sorry for being a brat, daddy. Don’t be cross with me,” she mumbled into his shirt, pushing her head deeper into his chest.

“I’m never cross with you, precious. I just need you to trust me to make important decisions.”

“But I’m going to miss you and you’ll have no one to play with.”

Rodolphus swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll miss you too, baby. More than you know. Part of becoming my big girl means spending time apart and making friends.”

“I don't like that,” Hermione answered honestly. “I just need you and my dragon.”

“I think that will make for a lot of very sad uncles and cousins,” Rodolphus said amusedly.

“Let’s just hug, daddy. I’ll miss your hugs at camp,” Hermione said as Rodolphus settled on his office chair with his girl on his lap.

“You’ll only be gone for a few hours everyday, sweet pea.”

“More hours apart than we’ve ever spent.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” Rodolphus said as he pressed his cheek to Hermione’s curls.

**July 2, 1990**

“Daddy will be down for breakfast in a moment, go on,” Rodolphus said with an encouraging smile.

Like clockwork, the Malfoys stepped through his office floo a moment later.

“Good morning, Rodolphus,” Narcissa said with a smile, the light blue of her robes matching Draco’s lightweight shirt.

“Indeed, Narcissa. Would you be a dear and make sure Hermione is eating? She’s been bouncing around since she woke up,” Rodolphus said with a thin smile.

“Of course, I will see you downstairs shortly,” the woman said as she gracefully exited, amused by the male posturing that’d occur once she left.

“Take a seat,” Rodolphus said, sitting down behind his desk. 

“Are you excited for today, Draco?”

“Yessir, I’m looking forward to seeing my friends,” the boy said easily, sitting in a chair next to his father.

“I’m sure your father has laid out his expectations of your behavior.”

“Yes, uncle. Malfoys are always well-behaved and engaged. We are leaders, not followers.”

Lucius smiled at his son proudly.

“You’re an upstanding young man, Draco. I’m trusting that you’ll keep an eye on Hermione and keep her safe.”

The boy sat up taller in his seat. “Of course, uncle. I’ll always protect Hermione. She’ll make lots of friends at camp, too. I know it.”

“You’re a good boy, Draco,” Lucius said as he looked at his son. “You and Colin are lucky to have many friends already; we’re counting on you to chaperone Hermione and ensure she makes friends. We are putting a lot of trust in you, son.”

Lucius had been betrothed to his wife before he was born and remembered having a similar conversation with Lord and Lady Black before heading to Hogwarts. He was sure his son, so much like him, felt a sense of pride at being confided in at such a young age.

“Yes father, yes Lord Lestrange,” Draco said, resorting to formalities. “Hermione is my best friend. I promise she’ll be okay.”

Rodolphus stood up at this, putting a hand out for Draco to shake and sealing the conversation with a crisp nod. 

“Have you already eaten?”

“Yes, we had a proper sendoff for Draco,” Lucius said. 

“Good, well, Hermione and the boys are finishing up downstairs, let’s make sure they’re ready to leave so we’re not late.”

The trio became privy to the cacophony of noises coming from the dining room as they walked in.

Dennis was laid out on the wood floor, feet and fists flailing as he screamed. 

“It’s not fair! I want to go! Let me go!” the boy screamed as his fathers watched on, Regulus looking unamused while Rabastan looked worried.

“We’ve had this conversation, Dennis. You will go next year. Now, if you keep this up, there will be no ice cream for a week,” Regulus said calmly. “Get up, dust off and say goodbye to your brother and cousins.”

“C’mere, buddy,” Rabastan said as he pulled Dennis up and ducked from flying fists.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Dennis the menace!” Colin said with a giggle, pulling his little brother into a tight hug. “I’ll tell you all about it when I’m home!”

Hermione flitted over to the pair and snuggled in between them. Both boys were lanky, and though they weren’t as tall as Draco, they were already taller than her.

“We’ll miss you! Love you,” Hermione said with a kiss to the boy’s cheek, causing smiles to come to the face of the five adults.

“See you before dinner,” Dennis said glumly, moving to lean into his dad’s side.

Rabastan pressed a kiss to his mini-me’s head, his hand resting on Dennis’ shoulder.

“Have fun and stay out of trouble, Colin. We can’t wait to hear about your day,” Rabastan said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Okay dad! And we get steak for dinner? With garlic potatoes?” the boy asked.

Rabastan laughed, “Yes, Col. We’ll eat steak and potatoes for dinner if you are good today.”

“Ready?” Lucius asked as he surveyed the scene with thinly veiled intrigue.

“We’ll follow you through,” Regulus said as he picked up Colin’s leather bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Rodolphus had Hermione’s pink leather bag in his hand already. The man had worked with Severus to charm it so that only she and Draco could open it at camp, the dour professor only lifting an eyebrow at Rodolphus’ paranoia before getting to work.

“Up, daddy,” Hermione said as the man went to grab her hand. Rodolphus lifted her into his arms as they followed Regulus and Colin into the floo, the little girl sparing a quick wave for Dennis and Rabastan as they went through. 

Hermione stiffened slightly at the sight of so many children, eyes going directly to Draco who was already looking up at her with a reassuring smile.

The room was quite large with square tables and chairs set up in clusters. There were few decorations, but the large window showed a picturesque grassy knoll and lake that laid just beyond the building.

“Would you like to go meet Theo and Blaise? I see the Greengrass sisters and Luna Lovegood with them!” Draco asked.

“Give your mother a kiss goodbye, Draco,” Lucius instructed quietly, the little boy blushing as he quickly glanced up to check out the other children saying goodbye to their parents.

“I love you, precious. Have fun today, I can’t wait to hear how your day went,” Rodolphus said as he kissed the girl, pasting on the smile he’d been practicing in the mirror.

“I love you too, I’ll miss you the whole time,” Hermione said as she gave him another tight squeeze before he placed her on the ground. They’d practiced saying goodbye, Narcissa promising that it would make the day easier. The woman had had to do the same thing before she went off to Hogwarts, having spent little time away from herhome.

Rodolphus handed Hermione’s bag to Draco, the little boy taking it dutifully before leading Hermione and Colin over to his friends. Hermione turned around once and waved uncertainly before taking Colin’s hand.

“Let’s head back to the manor for tea,” Narcissa said primly as she stepped into the floo. “I’ll have an elf apparate Dennis and Rabastan over.”

“I need something stronger than tea,” Rodolphus muttered as he stepped into Malfoy Manor.

“She’ll be just fine, Rodolphus,” Narcissa said with a small smile. “And no. It’ll be tea for you- we don’t need you anything less than sober when you pick up Hermione.”

“I don’t like this at all. Do you think Dumbledore will let her come home every night once she starts at Hogwarts?”

“I say this with sincerity, my friend. You will regret letting your fears hold Hermione back,” Lucius said seriously.

“I know, there’s just so much uncertainty. What if she has a Vision? What if she doesn’t make friends?”

“We’ll deal with those possibilities when they come, but for now… she needs you to be her rock. She will panic if you panic, Rod,” Regulus said.

“I just hope she’s having a good day,” the man said after a long pause.

“Meet Hermione Lestrange and Colin Lestrange, they’re cousins. These are my friends, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott as well as Luna Lovegood and Daphne and Astoria Greengrass,” Draco said as he introduced a small group of kids.

The group shyly introduced themselves with a round of waves.

“Are you all starting at Hogwarts in two years?” Blaise asked, his caramel colored eyes making eye contact with everyone.

“Not me, I have three years until I leave,” said Colin with a small pout.

“Me as well,” answered Luna, a girl with wavy platinum-colored hair. 

Hermione knew the girl would be there despite having never met in person. She looked at the girl curiously, having wanted to meet her for quite some time.

_ “Darling, what’s wrong?” Narcissa asked the girl sitting across from her at the dining room table as her eyes rolled back in her head, face turning pale. The elegant woman rushed to her side immediately, grabbing her hand. _

_ “Elf!” the woman screamed, eleven elves popping into the room instantly. “Find Lucius and Rodolphus.” _

_ Only moments later, the blond man ran into the room despite always telling his son that Malfoys did not run. _

_ “Cissy?” he asked breathlessly before seeing the slumped over girl. _

_ “I think she’s having a Vision,” the Malfoy woman said with a slight tremor in her voice. _

_ “You did well calling me, treasure,” Lucius praised, always calm and collected. He gently picked up Hermione in his arms, knowing from Rodolphus’ instructions to ensure the girl was never in a position to hurt herself once she came out of it.  _

_ Rodolphus came through the floo only moments after Hermione was laid out on a chaise, the Malfoys sitting on both sides of her to ensure she didn’t fall over. _

_ “How long?” Rodolphus asked, moving to take Lucius’ spot at Hermione’s right while the blond man quietly commanded a waiting elf to bring water and light snacks. _

_ “A little over four minutes,” Narcissa said worriedly. _

_ “What the fuck,” Rodolphus muttered to himself. “That’s the longest yet by a while. Call Severus, I don’t care if he’s in class.” _

_ “Right away,” Lucius said, before muttering to an elf. _

_ Hermione came out of it with a shuddering breath only moments later. _

_ “She’s going to die,” the seven year old gasped. _

_ “Water first, precious,” Rodolphus softly directed his girl, holding up a glass of water with one of the muggle swirly straws Hermione adored. _

_ Narcissa had smartly summoned parchment and a quill, knowing how the girl’s recollection of what she Saw was often all over the place. _

_ “Whenever you’re ready,” Rodolphus coaxed. _

_ “I don’t know the lady, but she’s going to die,” Hermione said slowly. “She makes lots of potions like Uncle Sev, but it went wrong. She fell asleep then people came in crying. But they were happy before… she’s a nice lady, daddy.” _

_ Severus swung into the room, looking irate at being summoned until he saw a shaking Hermione. _

_ “I’m sure she’s very nice,” Rodolphus cooed. “Can you tell us what she looks like?” _

_ Hermione paused, “She has long hair that looks like the noodles in my sick soup Gemmy makes. It’s brown and her eyes are brown too.” _

_ “Good job, angel. What did the other people look like?” _

_ “It’s her family. I saw them a lot of times being happy and silly. They slept outside in a tent like the one my dragon and I play in. The man said they were looking for a wragspurd. I’ve never heard of that in my books.” _

_ The adults shared a look. _

_ “Did the man’s hair look like mine?” Lucius asked. _

_ Hermione nodded, “A little bit. The girl’s eyes were almost the same as Draco’s too! But her face is less pointy. She’ll be my friend when we meet.” _

_ Severus let out a bark of laughter that confused the little girl. _

_ “If you remember, can you tell your uncle what the woman had in her cauldron?” _

_ “Yes, then can I nap? I’m tired, daddy.” _

_ “Of course.” _

_ “Why are you so far, Uncle Sev?” Hermione asked with her arms held towards the man, never too worn out to be insufferable. _

_ “I was called from my N.E.W.T. potions course where at least one hundred galleons in ingredients were wasted. I do believe I’m owed a cuddle for that,” Severus muttered as he grabbed the girl off the chaise, getting a displeased grunt from Rodolphus for his efforts. _

_ “Now,” Severus said as he sat down gently in a chair and nuzzled Hermione’s cheek with his large nose in an uncharacteristic public display of affection. “Tell me what was in this woman’s cauldron.” _

_ “I’m not sure,” Hermione answered, brow furrowing. “It was light green, then she added something in a vial with ‘yeti tears’ written on it. After she did that it turned black and she fell asleep on the floor. Then I saw the man and girl come in and cry. I woke up right after that.” _

_ “If I were to guess, she was trying to make a protective amulet and added too many yeti tears,” Severus murmured. _

_ “Can you help?” Hermione asked. _

_ “I believe we can, dear,” Lucius said. “It just so happens we know the little girl’s grandfather.” _

_ “Oh, thank you!” Hermione beamed, hugging Severus tightly before letting out a yawn. She couldn’t wait to hear that the woman would be okay, but for now… she’d sleep. _

“Hello, you’re Luna,” Hermione said with a shy smile.

“Well hello, Hermione,” Luna said. “Your aura is just as unique as I thought it would be.”

“What’s an aura?” Hermione asked, interested.

“It’s the colors she can see around your body,” answered Daphne Greengrass, a blonde girl with porcelain skin. “I’m sure it’s lovely.”

“Wow,” Hermione said. “I wish I could see that.”

Draco snorted unintentionally at Hermione’s words, already knowing he had to guard Hermione’s secret. The boy had known about Hermione’s Sight for years now, guarding the secret closely and pridefully as the only child to know.

Before the conversation could continue, an amplified voice resounded through the room.

“Good morning to all! Can you hear me?” an old man asked as Hermione stiffened immediately. She knew who that was.

“Yes!” the children chorused back.

“Wonderful! My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” giggles sounded through the room. “I am also the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where you will be students quite soon. We have the two classes of pupils here for our first ever Hogwarts summer camp. Our days will be spent learning magic, getting to know one another, and learning more about the world in which we live.”

“Our first order of business is introducing you to our summer camp minders, counselors if you will,” the man said with a twinkle in his eyes as if he was telling a joke only he could understand. “We have Remus Lupin, Fabian Prewett, Benjy Fenwick, Marlene McKinnon, Andromeda Tonks, and Hogwarts’ very own astronomy professor, Aurora Sinistra. These fine leaders will be here to teach you and answer all of your questions. If you need anything at all, we are all available. And I leave you with these words… swirl, wibble, wobble, and kachow! We are off to the races at Hogwarts summer camp.”

Hermione shared a look with Draco. The man was weird, yet she could admit he was slightly intriguing. Only, Hermione knew that he was the man who’d inspired her first Vision and tried to kill her Uncle Tom. She knew to watch out even before her father had warned her.

The girl was shepherded to a separate room alongside the others who had two years left until they attended Hogwarts, deemed H-1s by the Headmaster while the younger children, starting at Hogwarts in three years, were H-2s.

“Hi there, my name is Remus Lupin. Feel free to call me Mr. Lupin or Remus,” a sandy haired man said with a smile once the children were sitting at tables around the room. The awfully irritating Ron Weasley had scoffed at the way Draco pulled out Hermione’s chair for her, causing the pair to glare at him. She smiled and waved a hand towards the seat on her other side for Daphne Greengrass, pleased as punch when the girl sat down. The Greengrass waved sweetly, receiving a smile and finger wiggle in return from Hermione.

“I’m Andromeda Tonks,” said a woman with curly hair that looked much like Hermione’s own. “Please call me Mrs. Tonks or Andy, whatever you prefer.”

“Now, we’d love to get to know you all. Let’s share our names, our favorite food and what we’re hoping to do at summer camp,” Said Mr. Lupin with another comforting smile. Hermione felt herself relax when listening to the man talk. She liked him already.

Hermione recognized the names she heard in the room from Draco and her daddy and found that most of the faces she’d pictured in her head didn’t match up to the people she was looking at. She’d had Visions with a few of them as well, nothing world changing, but knew who to keep her eye on.

Everyone snickered as Vincent Crabbe, a chubby boy with bright red cheeks, hemmed and hawed for at least three minutes before deciding his favorite food was all of them. Hermione only felt slightly guilty as she joined in.

“Wonderful!” Andromeda Tonks said with the clap of her hands. “Things are always a little easier when you know a little bit about your classmates. Soon enough, you’ll all be off to Hogwarts together! How exciting. Today, we’re going to spend some time learning more about one another. In a moment, we’ll hand out a parchment to all of you. There will be 12 boxes with different statements written in them. Your goal is to go around the classroom, find someone the statement applies to and then have them sign their name in the box.”

Mr. Lupin continued, “That’s right. This will be a chance to learn some more about those around you. Make sure to share your name again with those you’re speaking to, I’m sure they’ve already forgotten it. All right… let’s begin!”

Hermione looked down at the parchment in front of her. The twelve boxes had a variety of statements that seemed easy enough to fulfill.

“My Uncle Severus is the potions professor at Hogwarts,” Draco said in a loud voice. “I’ve brewed many potions with him.”

The blond caught the eyes of many of the students in the room at that and received a loud scoff from Ron Weasley.

Hermione met Susan Bones, a strawberry blonde girl whose mother worked at the Ministry. Ron Weasley was the only one in the room to have never left Britain, receiving a look of thinly-veiled disdain from Pansy Parkinson when she had to have him sign her parchment. Blaise Zabini was proud to share that he spoke English, Spanish, and Italian. Hermione had read  _ Hogwarts: a History _ many times, blushing when Draco stated loudly that she’d even read his family’s first edition copy of the book.

The morning went by quickly after that, full of learning the rules and expectations for the days ahead, leaving Hermione more excited at the prospect of coming back five days a week for another eight weeks. Previously, she’d been counting down the days left, but now? She realized that she had the opportunity to make friends who weren’t her cousins or Draco - friends who were girls, she thought with a burst of joy.

Hermione’s day turned around after Mrs. Tonks let them know that their teachers would rotate in and out, so it was important that they were assigned a buddy off the bat. Draco immediately looked at Hermione, face falling when the woman said it had to be girls with girls and boys with boys.

“Would you like to be my buddy, Hermione?” Daphne Greengrass asked her, seafoam green eyes looking up hopefully. 

“I would love to,” Hermione said shyly to the girl next to her. A fragile hope blossomed in the young Lestrange’s chest, a feeling of wistfulness for a friendship and confidant who wasn’t a boy. Her daddy had told her that she’d had a Vision years ago about having two blonde friends, and though she didn’t remember it, she knew deep down that Daphne was one of those friends.

“Would you look at that,” Remus said as he looked at a watch on his wrist. “It’s already time for lunch! Grab your bag and let’s head outside to enjoy the weather and eat with everyone else.”

Draco slung Hermione’s bag over his shoulder once more, and the girl stayed at his side as they walked outside.

“How long have you two been friends?” Daphne asked curiously as they were herded through the halls.

“Since we were born,” Hermione said with a smile. “My daddy is friends with Draco’s parents.”

“That’s so fun, I wish I had friends outside of my little sister. Tori and I never get to go outside and meet people,” the girl said glumly.

Hermione looked at her conspiratorially, “Me too. Daddy says that’s just part of being a little girl. Maybe we can play together after our parents meet!”

“Oh, please! I want to see the books about plants in your library,” Daphne answered excitedly.

“Of course, we have so many, I told you. Daddy would let you take some home! And Folly one of our elves could tell you about the plants we have. Oh I can’t wait!” Hermione said, both girls bouncing as they walked. 

There were wooden tables set up outside with red and white checkered tablecloths on them.

“This looks like the muggle parks that Uncle Sev and I go past,” Hermione murmured to Draco as the boy scrunched his nose.

“Welcome to our first of many camp lunches!” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. “Use lunch as an opportunity to make new friends and build the bonds that will stay with you long past Hogwarts. Bon appetit!”

Hermione sat down in the middle of a table, joining many of the girls who were trying to figure out how to seat themselves on a long piece of wood.

“Well, this is cozy,” Blaise said as he sat down.

“Why are we sitting on a long piece of wood? Why aren’t there chairs?” Daphne asked.

“It’s called a picnic table and these are benches,” Luna informed. “Papa said they have benches in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.”

“So weird,” Hermione muttered, looking down every few minutes to make sure her dress wasn’t riding up and showing her knickers. She added benches to her list of why she should stay home with daddy and not go to Hogwarts.

**July 10, 1990**

“What do you need ice cream for, precious?” Rodolphus asked his wriggly daughter patiently. 

“Mr. Lupin was sick yesterday and today, and Mr. Prewett said he’ll be back tomorrow morning,” Hermione replied. “You always give me ice cream when I’m sick and I want him to feel better.”

Rodolphus stiffened like he did every time the werewolf was brought up, the man having completely lost it when Hermione recounted the names of her ‘minders’ at camp. It was another harebrained plot by Dumbledore to secure his greater good, but it was one that’d gone too far. He wanted his girl nowhere near a werewolf.

“Ice cream is going to melt, even if it’s under a stasis charm,” Rodolphus replied. “Why don’t you paint him a card? That will last longer than ice cream, anyways.”

“So smart, daddy!” Hermione replied with an approving look. Rodolphus let out a surprised snort at her gall.

**July 11, 1990**

“Hi Mr. Lupin,” Hermione said that morning after saying goodbye to her daddy. 

The man kneeled down to the tiny girl’s height, giving her a tired smile. “Hello there, Miss Lestrange. How are you doing, today?”

“I’m good,” Hermione replied, taking a breath. “I was sad to hear you’re sick and wanted to bring you ice cream. My daddy said you might like a picture more, so I painted for you.”

Hermione took the large piece of parchment out from the top of her bag and handed it over to the man.

Still worn out from the full moon, Remus had to swallow a lump in his throat at the thoughtful gesture from the daughter of two people who’d very much like to see him dead.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Miss Lestrange. Let’s take a look,” Remus said fondly, unrolling the parchment. “Wow, you made this?”

“Yes sir,” Hermione said, a fledgling smile on her lips at his approval. “It’s you and me with our wands after I get mine next week. You’re showing me how to turn the flowers by the lake into different colors.”

Remus smiled fondly at the little girl in front of him. He’d been amused when Sirius had first ranted about having to meet his brother’s children and his cousin’s daughter, joining with James and Lily in calming him down and admonishing him in the same measure for judging little kids. The man had come to dinner that night with his head hung low, muttering about how charming the little girl was and how curious it was that neither hide nor hair of Bellatrix was seen or mentioned.

For the few days he’d known her, he knew Hermione to be a sweet, intelligent and shy little girl. He was more than a little shocked to realize the prejudice he’d come into the summer with, the very prejudice that Headmaster Dumbledore had stated he was trying to eradicate.

“I love it,” Remus replied. “If I wasn’t feeling better already, this would’ve done the trick. I’ll put it up on my fridge when I get home.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione said with a full blown grin. “What’s a fridge?”

Remus hid his grin at the thought of how excited the headmaster would be when he recounted this learning moment in their debrief at the end of the day.

**July 17, 1990**

“Can’t go anywhere without your daddy, Lestrange?” a red-faced Ron Weasley mocked, his sister standing quietly behind him.

“Come off it, Ron,” Harry Potter said with the roll of his eyes. “My mum is coming too. There are too many of us for just our counselors.”

“It’s still true,” Ron muttered as Hermione walked away.

“Why’s he so mean?” Daphne asked, brows furrowed at the boy’s constant bullying. “His head is full of very bad thoughts.”

“Wrackspurts,” Luna replied. “Wrackspurts all over that boy.”

**July 18, 1990**

“Hello boys and girls! How are you doing on this fine day? Ready to read some books?” Fabian Prewett said with a wide grin.

“No! You said we was gonna use our wands!” a red faced Gregory Goyle said.

“Ohhh,” Fabian said dramatically. “That’s what we’re doing today! All right, kiddos. Get out your wands.”

“Make sure to hold it in your wand hand, the one you write with,” Marlene McKinnon, a beautiful woman with honey blonde curls instructed.

“We’re going to try out a charm you normally learn your first week at Hogwarts in Charms class,” Fabian said, using a hand to push back his long auburn hair.

Hermione was eager to try her wand out, her father having taken it last night to keep her jealous cousins from pouting more than they already were.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Hermione enunciated, moving her wand in the exact movement that Mr. Prewett and Miss McKinnon taught them. The girl let out a gasp when the leaf in front of her started to raise off the table, a pleased grin on her face.

“Woah, Hermione’s got it!” Harry Potter said from the table over, giving her a genuine smile.

“Top job, girlie!” Fabian said with a pleased clap of his hands. “One down, the rest of you to go!”

“I bet she cheated,” Ron Weasley said loudly, getting an eye roll but no telling off from his uncle. “Wingardium leviosa!”

Hermione couldn’t help but correct the boy. “Mr. Weasley, it’s wingardium leviosa, not wingardium leviosa!”

“I don’t need help from anyone, especially you!” the boy replied, his uncle immediately coming over to whisper in his ear.

A moment later, Daphne and Draco’s leaves started to levitate lazily in the air.

“Thanks Hermione! Your instructions helped me,” the girl said with a sweet smile.

“Good job, you two!” Hermione said, shaking off the rude words of Ronald Weasley. Like her dad told her… nothing the boy said mattered. She knew who she was.

**July 30, 1990**

“Excellent job, Hermione! I know second years who have trouble with the unlocking charm,” Mr. Lupin said, continuing to circle the room.

“Thank you sir,” Hermione said with a beam, loving the feeling of accomplishment that came with perfecting a spell.

“You’re such a great witch, Hermione,” Susan Bones said sweetly, causing the girl to blush.

“She’s brilliant,” Harry said, unaware that his compliment was about to pop the cap off of a bubbling bottle of Ron Weasley.

“I know someone whose parents will give them sorbet tonight,” Lupin said quietly, but not quiet enough. He’d grown into an easy banter with the little Lestrange that opened roads to seeing Rodolphus in a new light, knowing how proud of his daughter he was.

“I’m not so sure about that,” the red head spat, causing the room to come to a standstill. “My father said they aren’t even her parents. He said they stole her from muggles and we don’t even know who she is.”

“Shut up, that’s not true,” Draco shouted, standing up.

“It is! My dad said so. And-and Luna too! And Daphne! They’re all mudbloods, my mum said, not purebloods.”

“SHUT UP!” Harry and Draco shouted at the same time, having learned enough at their age to know that his language was unacceptable.

“That is ENOUGH,” Remus said in quiet anger. “Mr. Weasley, out of my classroom right now. OUT.”

Hermione felt like she was in a fog of confusion.

“What’s a mudblood?” the girl asked Daphne quietly, uncomfortable with all of the stares she was receiving.

“I don’t know,” the girl replied quietly, tears welling in her eyes. “I want to go home.”

“Me too,” Hermione replied, unable to stem her tears after seeing her friend crying.

“Come with me, little ones,” Andromeda said quietly, having been summoned into the room by Remus.

The girls linked hands as they walked out, Draco feeling a pit in his stomach when he couldn’t catch Hermione’s eye.

The pair were led into the headmaster’s office, the room a bright blue color with cushy chairs in front of his desk. An angry looking Ron was slumped in a chair with his arms crossed. Mr. Lupin was leaning against the wall, his body in a rigid line. Hermione swore she saw the man’s eyes flash gold for a moment when she looked over at him, but was immediately sidetracked from the thought when the headmaster spoke.

“Miss Lestrange, Miss Greengrass, would you mind telling me in your own words what happened today?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said through sobs that welled up the moment she started to talk.

“I need you to try and tell me, Miss Lestrange,” the headmaster said soothingly, fingers propping up his head.

“Okay, sir,” Hermione replied through tears. “He-he said um, that my daddy stole me.”

“There there, Miss Lestrange. Is that true Mr. Weasley?” Dumbledore asked with what looked to be an amused glint in his eyes.

“It is true! My dad told me so,” Ron replied. The girls were sobbing hard at that point, neither the headmaster or red head looking to console them.

“That is enough of this, Albus,” an angry Remus Lupin said, unsure of what game the headmaster was playing. “I’m calling their parents to come get them.”

Remus gently grabbed the girls’ hands and led them from the room without protest, pulling them into the empty foyer and warding the room.

“One moment, ladies,” Remus said with a weak smile, momentarily stunning the girls with an impressive show of magic as they saw two misty wolves gallop off.

Rodolphus was the first to floo in, hair sopping wet and a terrified look on his face.

“Daddy,” Hermione sobbed, launching herself into the man’s arms.

“What happened?” the man asked in a loud voice before pressing kisses to Hermione’s hair.

The Greengrasses flooed in only a moment later, Daphne’s renewed tears causing the normally put-together Lady Greengrass to shriek at the only adult present.

“Well,” Remus said with a gulp, knowing he definitely didn’t sign up for this aspect of dealing with kids. “One of the children got upset in class and made some incendiary comments to the girls.”

“He s-said you stole us! He said I’m not your little girl,” Daphne cried.

“We’re going home, but I will be back for answers,” Rodolphus snarled, holding Hermione to his chest like a football as he hopped in the floo without looking back.

“Settle down baby, you’re going to make yourself sick,” Rodolphus cooed as they stepped through the floo, immediately heading for his bedroom.

Hermione continued to sob long after he laid down in bed and curled the girl’s small frame over his much larger one.

Rodolphus let out a sigh when Hermione finally quieted down, shifting her from his chest to the bed next to him.

“Gildy,” the man whispered.

“Yes Master,” Gildy said after popping into the room eyes nervously glancing to Hermione who she knew was supposed to be at camp until 4pm.

“Stay with Hermione and have someone bring her blanket and then change her into a nightgown, I’ll be right back.” Rodolphus said, running a finger across Hermione’s damp cheek before walking out of the room.

He hated the thought, but he knew he had to write Tom and let him know that the Wizengamot’s decision from nearly 11 years earlier was now known by the very children whose lives they’d uprooted. Rodolphus snapped two quills while writing the short missive, but eventually sent it off. He pitied the earful he knew Abraxas was going to receive shortly.

Rodolphus headed back into his bedroom, laying down to read while waiting for Hermione to wake up. His heart broke at the relaxed expression on Hermione’s face as she woke up that quickly morphed into heartbreak.

“C’mere precious,” Rodolphus cooed, lifting the girl onto his lap and pressing a kiss on the side of her head.

“No kisses,” Hermione said softly, ripping Rodolphus’ heart to shreds as she climbed off his lap and turned to look at him. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Rodolphus asked softly.

“Ron said… he said you aren’t my daddy. That you stole me from other people,” Hermione said, voice breaking halfway through. “Why would he say that?”

“He shouldn’t have said that,” Rodolphus said, voice sounding as weak as he felt.

“But was it true?” Hermione asked, pressing the man in a way that he wasn’t used to.

Rodolphus closed his eyes, wishing he could predict how the moment ahead of him would play out.

“Bellatrix didn’t give birth to you,” Rodolphus said, words coming out like vomit.

“Boys can have babies?” Hermione asked, confused. Rodolphus was amazed that he’d now entered himself into the second most dreaded conversation he could have with his daughter.

“I didn’t give birth to you either, sweetheart,” Rodolphus answered.

“Who did?”

“I’m not sure,” Rodolphus answered honestly. “When you were very little you did some magic and scared the muggles who had you. The ministry brings babies who are magical to other magical families.”

“You stole me,” Hermione whispered.

“We didn’t steal you, baby,” Rodolphus said, pleading. “The ministry wanted to keep you safe.”

“You stole me,” Hermione said louder, voice edging on hysterical. “You aren’t my daddy.”

“Of course I’m your daddy. You’re my everything, my whole heart.”

“She hates me because you stole me, doesn’t she?” Hermione asked, eyes wild.

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve told you sweetheart… she isn’t a nice woman. What she thinks doesn’t matter,” Rodolphus replied.

“Oh no,” Hermione breathed. “You’re not my daddy.”

“I’m your daddy, Hermione. This changes nothing.”

“Do you talk to the people you stole me from?” 

“No… they don’t remember you anymore, baby,” Rodolphus replied.

“You did magic on them,” Hermione said with a look of betrayal on her face that Rodolphus wouldn’t soon forget.

“We had to, sweetheart. It was for your own good,” Rodolphus said.

“My own good,” the girl laughed, sounding much older than a 10 year old had any right to. “Does Uncle Tom know?”

“Everyone knows, sweetheart. We all wanted to keep you safe,” Rodolphus replied, voice cracking on every word.

“You stole me,” Hermione screamed through tears. “You lied to me. You told me you were my daddy and you-you lied. You lied.”

“Come here, princess… please,” Rodolphus begged as Hermione jumped off her bed and ran down the hall to her room.

Hermione had never had much reason to cry and felt herself completely overwhelmed by the tears streaming down her face. She shut her door, wishing she knew a locking charm.

“Ruthy,” the girl sobbed, the elf immediately popping in.

“Little miss, is you needing master?” the elf asked, making Hermione sob even harder.

“No, I need to go see Uncle Sev,” the girl replied.

The elf tugged her ear hard, “I is sorry, but Mister Severus is in another country.”

Hermione thought for a moment about where she could go, who she could see that hadn’t lied to her and kept her identity hidden.

“You can go, Ruthy,” Hermione said, dismissing the distraught elf. “Kreacher, I need you.”

“Kreacher’s precious little miss musn’t cry,” the old elf said as he popped into the room, immediately inviting himself onto Hermione’s bed to stroke her hair.

“Kreacher, take me to Uncle Sirius,” Hermione ordered, her tears the only reason that the elf didn’t protest.

“Kreacher is taking little miss,” the elf said, apparating the pair to a room Hermione had never seen. The space was surprisingly clean and modern, an L-shaped leather couch dominating the room with a weird large box directly across from it.

“Who’s there?” a male voice cried out, Kreacher immediately stepping in front of Hermione to protect her. Sirius had his wand out as he ran down the hallway, burgundy auror robes still on after his shift. “Kreach- kitten, what’s wrong? Why are you here?”

“Uncle Sirius,” the girl cried, running up to the man and receiving the big hug she needed.

“It’s okay, little one. You’re okay now, I’ve gotcha,” Sirius crooned, swaying around the room and holding his sort-of niece close in his arms.

“Want to tell Uncle Siri what’s wrong?” the man asked, sitting down and cradling the girl in his arms.

“Did you know my daddy isn’t my daddy?” she whispered, body wrecked from the past few hours. “They stole me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sirius sighed, pressing his lips to the girl’s temple. “What happened today?”

“At camp, Ron got mad when I did a spell right… he said that daddy stole me… and Luna and Daphne’s parents stole them. He said his mum says I’m a mudblood… I don’t know what that means.”

Sirius’ face flushed with color, having half a mind to hex Molly Weasley until she couldn’t move.

“Ron Weasley is a jealous buffoon who’s made because you’re smarter than him, kitten, but that’s no reason for him to bully you.”

“But he was right… daddy said they took me from muggles and now they don’t even remember me.”

“To be fair, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Sirius replied. “How about we order some pizza and watch a movie?”

“I don’t know what pizza and a movie is,” the girl admitted, eyes innocent and wide.

“You’ll love it, and that’s an Uncle Sirius promise. You know how sacred those are,” the man said solemnly.

Hermione giggled, snuggling in closer to the man’s chest and knowing that at least for the night, she had someone whose relationship with her wasn’t built on a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was a doozy. let me know your thoughts please please please! big shift to come.
> 
> I've also started another fic, Hermione and Luna time travel to Marauders era... kind of :) I hope you enjoy if you read that as well!
> 
> as always, find me on tumblr at https://thiscitychickk.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated leaving this on a slight cliffhanger, so here you are with a shorter than normal chapter to wrap things up and then split them into a million pieces. Thank you all so much for your thoughts and comments! They mean the world and keep me extremely motivated as to crank out chapters quickly and have my quaranteam (family) wonder what the heck I'm doing all of the time. 
> 
> I'll go back to check this out for errors, but wanted to get up before I went to sleep.

“Good morning, little lady,” Sirius said with a smile as Hermione walked into the open living space from his guest bedroom.

“Morning,” Hermione replied. “That smells good.”

“It is good, kitten,” Sirius said, waving his hand in dramatic flourish.

“What is it, though?” Hermione asked, faced scrunched in confusion.

“It’s Mcdonald’s brekky, nectar of the gods as our dear Lily calls it. We’ve got pancakes, egg McMuffins and hashbrowns. I suggest starting off with just a hashbrown and some pancakes, don’t want your little tummy revolting.”

“Okay,” Hermione said with a slight giggle, picking up one of the hot, golden brown oval-shaped… things and putting it on her plate.

“Gotta lather it up with ketchup now,” Sirius narrated, squirting ketchup all over it.

“This is so weird, Uncle Siri,” Hermione muttered while shaking her head. “Where are my utensils?”

“No utensils, just pick it up and dig in,” Sirius replied while demonstrating with his own hashbrown.

“Mmm, this is so good,” Hermione said after swallowing a dainty bite. “I love this… it’s like breakfast potatoes, but way better.”

“Deep frying is like magic for your taste buds,” Sirius replied before the pair tucked in quietly.

“Thank you for breakfast,” Hermione said politely. “Where are your elves?”

“Don’t have any, little girl,” Sirius replied, balling up the paper wrappers and throwing them in his trash.

“Why?” Hermione asked, thoroughly confused.

“No need, I can take care of myself.”

“So can I,” the girl piped up defensively. “I’d miss my elves if they weren’t with me… they’re my friends.”

“Just like Reggie,” Sirius replied with a soft smile. “I like to cook for myself, cleaning took some getting used to, but I figured it out.

“Oh! Do you have a fridge?” Hermione asked with a point. “Is that a fridge?”

“This is a stove, this is an oven, this is a dishwasher… but this is a fridge,” Sirius replied with a smile. “How’d you learn about muggle appliances?”

“Mr. Lupin,” Hermione replied with a faint blush.

“Ah,” Sirius replied, trying to hide his grin. From what he’d heard from Remus, the girl was smart… he could only imagine the nerdy little crush Hermione had on the attractive, older, nerdy Remus.

After giving a quick introduction course to muggle appliances, Sirius guided the sleep-ruffled girl to the couch.

“No one hates serious talk more than your Uncle Sirius… but, let’s talk. I’m sure your father is tearing the house apart looking for you.”

“I don’t want to see daddy right now,” Hermione replied quietly. Sirius was pleased to see the girl was still considering the man her father, much unlike himself when he’d finally severed the connection with his family.

“We’ve got to let him know you’re okay before he calls in the aurors and I lose my job, kitten.”

“Can we tell Kreacher?” Hermione suggests.

“We can,” Sirius replied. “Now, we have two choices… do you want Kreacher to bring you some clothes from your house or would you like a little Sirius shopping time in muggle London?”

“Shopping!” Hermione said excitedly, the prospect of going out into London with her uncle almost completely overtaking the sadness from yesterday.

Hermione quickly discovered that going out into London with Uncle Sirius was a much different experience than it was with Uncle Severus. She was amazed to discover what pizza was during lunch and found herself wishing Draco was there to share the experience with.

“Draco would love this,” Hermione said as they sat in hard red bucket chairs at the pizza parlor, her eyes tracking the other patrons.

“I bet he would,” Sirius said with a smile. “Who doesn’t like melted cheese, bread and tomato sauce?”

“Why don’t we eat food like this, Uncle Sirius?” the little girl asked.

“That’s a good question… I’ve found that a lot of our people don’t like change. They’re happy to stick to what they know and what they’ve been doing forever and ever and then have their kids do the same stuff over and over and so on and so on. It’s boring.”

“That does sound boring… The people who had me first,” Hermione said, voice dropping into a whisper. “They’re like these people?”

“Muggles, darling,” Sirius whispered back. “Yes… that’s right.”

“Do you think I would’ve liked living with them?”

The man gave Hermione a gentle smile, answering in a way he knew would make his snakey relatives proud. “I’m not sure, sweetheart… it would’ve made your life a whole lot harder.”

“So you’re happy they took me?” Hermione asked, looking up with a trust that Sirius had only ever seen when Harry asked James and Lily questions.

“I never liked this answer, but I’ll give it now. It’ll be easier to explain when you’re older, little kitty. Am I happy you’re in my life? Absolutely. Do I think your dad is a good dad? Absolutely.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said with a nod, knowing that was as good of an answer as she’d receive right now. “I’m happy you’re in my life too.”

Sirius smacked a loud kiss on Hermione’s temple, “Let’s go wash up and head out to get you something to wear! You’ve been in that dress for far too long.”

\--  
“I’m not sure, Uncle Sirius,” Hermione said as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“You are rocking that look, this is my favorite one yet,” Sirius said with a smile and little laugh.

“This robe is not very comfy,” Hermione said, fussing with the sleeves.

“It’s not a robe, it’s called a jean jacket. It’s all the rage these days.”

“Do you have one?”

“I have a closet full of em, kitten. Your uncle is up on ALL of the fashion trends.”

“I like it with this dress,” she said. “It looks like the stuffy I saw at the zoo when I was little.”

“It’s called cheetah print,” Sirius explained. “You’re right, it’s a real animal. Not sure we have any here in England, though.”

Hermione nodded in reply, smiling slightly as she looked at herself in the mirror. The dress was shorter than anything she’d ever worn, landing just above her knees. She was surprised to find that she liked the way it looked paired with the light piece her uncle had called a jean jacket.

\--

“It’s almost like Dumbledore wanted this to happen,” Tom said calmly.

Rodolphus swallowed his anger, knowing that yelling at the man would do nothing but cause him more trouble.

“I can’t see why he’d open a camp with the first set of adopted children other than to push his agenda,” Abraxas replied. “And, on top of that, look at who he chose as their instructors. A mutt, blood traitors…”

“Pardon my impudence,” Xanthos Lovegood said. “But how are we supposed to move forward? My granddaughter has been holed up in our chalet with my wife, crying and begging to know what a mudblood is.”

“My daughter is with Sirius bloody Black,” Rodolphus said quietly, receiving groans from almost everyone in the room. Regulus remained as stone faced as ever.

“The Weasley family must pay,” Lucius offered. “Draco informed me that the little weasel said his mother called the girls mudbloods. This can’t go unpunished.”

“And that bitch considers herself… what? Something other than a dirt poor blood traitor weasel?” Dolohov replied. “I’ll kill her myself.”

“I’ll help hide the body,” Barty Crouch Jr., an up and coming Department of Mysteries official replied with a small smile. Rodolphus didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him.

“I’ve had no fun lately,” Bellatrix said with a pout. “Can I kill one of the little weasels?”

“There’ll be no killing,” Tom ordered. “Not yet, at least. I do have a feeling that Molly Weasley will be caught in a sticky situation sometime soon, though.”

The group let out a laugh, Rodolphus surprised that he actually joined in authentically for once. No one messed with his girl and got away with it.

“Bellatrix, Rodolphus, stay. Lucius… fetch Narcissa. Everyone else, off you go. Keep an eye on the Prophet,” Tom said, as relaxed as ever in the Malfoy’s drawing room. “Abraxas, have an elf bring some eclairs.”

“As you wish,” Abraxas replied. Rodolphus was always amused at how the Minister of Magic was treated like an errand boy, but kept that thought to himself. There were bigger mandrakes to pot at the moment.

“Hi Cissy,” Bellatrix cooed with sugary sweetness. “Looking a bit peaky. Is Lucius not letting you out of the house?”

“Looking well yourself, Bellatrix,” Narcissa replied without a glance, sitting down in a way that would make the most stuffy pureblood women sing with joy.

“As has likely crossed your minds, there will be questions from the other parents of Hogwarts students. People questioning how well the ministry’s adoption program is working. People questioning… us.”

“How can we help, my Lord?” Bellatrix asked immediately, never losing the honorific when she spoke to the man despite his repeated insistence.

“For years, Dumbledore has continued to throw quills at the wall, patiently waiting to see what sticks… and would look at this? Something’s finally stuck. Oh, delicious,” Tom interrupted his thoughts as he picked up an eclair. “I figured I deserve a sweet when I’ve had such a rough day. I’m not normally one to indulge, you know that.”

Rodolphus clenched his jaw, incredulous as he watched the man’s selfishness truly reach new heights.

“Where was I.... oh, yes. optics are everything, aren’t they? Now, think of the difficult conversations had over dinner last night in so many homes. What did little Miss Susan Bones say to her bumbling and clueless parents? Or young Harry Potter… how did Lily and James disclose what happened? Of course, there are those who were on board with our mission from the start. But those who aren’t? They’ve now had to explain the cruel realities of our world to their children. More eyes are on us than ever. Do we want to prove that the Weasleys and Dumbledores of the world were right? Or do we want to once again prove that bringing all magical children into our world was the only way forward… that we aren’t prejudiced against these muggleborn children.”

“The latter, my Lord,” Bellatrix parroted immediately.

“That is the spirit of I’ve called you together,” Tom said as he wiped crumbs off of his upper lip with a cloth napkin. “Young Draco is the grandson of our Minister, the scion of the wealthiest and most renowned family in our world. The word of a Malfoy is a sickle while the actions of a Malfoy is more precious than the deepest vault in Gringotts. You understand?”

Narcissa remained stoic, face going pale as she realized where the conversation was heading. A quick look at the men in the room showed that they had no idea what was ahead.

“How symbolic would it be for our purest to come together with the first of… less than savory roots?”

“Stop saying that,” Rodolphus growled, unable to help himself. “Hermione is my daughter.”

“No offense intended,” Tom said, lazily raising his hands in surrender. “You know my fondness for Hermione. I am simply articulating what others are surely thinking today. Is an adopted child the same as a pure child?”

“Nope,” Bellatrix replied, her lips popping on the world.

“And that’s exactly the sentiment we’re fighting,” Tom said, hiding the smile that said he’d made his point. “The Weasleys, Boneses, Abbotts, McLaggens and Macmillans of the world are here thinking that we are going to cast out some of our children or treat them differently because they weren’t born ours. We need to show a united front. And as I said… that’s where tonight’s meeting comes in.”

“How can we assist?” Lucius asked cautiously.

“He means to marry the children,” Narcissa said in the silence of the room.

“Brains and beauty, you never disappoint,” Tom replied with a pleased smile. “What do you think about that? The Malfoy heir, the grandson of the most successful and liberal minister in history marries the beloved golden goose, golden girl if you rather, of our society.”

“Wouldn’t you rather someone of her blood marry someone… more akin to her station?” Bellatrix asked, a telltale look of disgust on her face.

“Lately I’m having to remind myself of why I keep you around, Bellatrix. You’ll do well to shut your mouth if you’d like your tongue to remain inside of it.”

“Tom… Do you mean for this to go public? They’re still children,” Lucius said hesitantly.

“And you and Narcissa weren’t betrothed since birth? Bellatrix and Rodolphus the same? Your commitment to allowing the children to pave their own way is commendable, but sometimes the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. If you have thoughts to how we share this news, I’m amenable to listen.”  
Abraxas spoke up first, “What if we were to play this to our advantage? Roll it out organically after a public display of bigotry?”

Tom was silent for a moment before grinning, “I think it’s time for Poseidon Parkinson to fulfill his long overdue penance.”  
\--

“Hermione Theia,” Sirius said sharply. “What was that all about?”

“He asked if I knew someone named God,” the little girl said, soothingly brushing her Uncle’s hair with her free hand. “I didn’t, so I told him.”

“Sweet little kitten, you scared me half to death,” Sirius said honestly. “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”

Hermione blushed, “Yes, Uncle Sirius. I’m sorry. I just got excited when he wanted to give me a book.”

Sirius looked at the small faux-leather covered book the girl held and shook his head.

“It’s a muggle book, they call it the bible. It’s a bunch of stories about a guy they claim created the world.”

“Hm... sounds interesting! Can we read it together before bed?”

“Well, sweetheart… I think it’s about time we talk to your daddy, don’t you? I think two sleeps without hearing from his favorite girl is too long.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said quietly. “He might not want me anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t he want you?” Sirius asked, jiggling the key to his apartment after letting down the wards.

“I’m not his,” Hermione whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“You are his, Hermione,” Sirius said definitively. “I love you, but I’m not the one you need to have your conversation with.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Hermione said through a sob.

“What if Uncle Sirius stays and waits to see if you want to come back here? I won’t leave until you say it’s okay.”

“You’ll play with Uncle Reggie until I’m done?” Hermione asked with wide, tear-filled eyes.

Sirius hid a smile, stroking Hermione’s cheek. “Yeah, sweet girl. I’ll play with my little brother until you’re done.”

Hermione giggled, squeezing the man tightly. “Uncle Reggie said you’re bad when you play. Be nice to him.”

“He’s just mad he always loses chess and quidditch to his big brother, don’t listen to him.”

Hermione settled in the silence for a moment before Sirius used his wand to make a big dog, much like what Mr. Lupin did the day before.

“What is that?” Hermione asked, eyes wide.

“It’s called a patronus,” Sirius explained. “It can share messages with other people much faster than owls.”

“Can you teach me how?” Hermione asked.

“When you’re a little older, kitten. It’s a tricky bit of magic.”

“I won’t forget,” Hermione warned with a poke to the man’s sharp cheekbone.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Sirius said with the roll of his eyes. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Kreacher,” Sirius called, the elf popping into his flat immediately.

“Oh, Kreacher’s precious perfect little miss… Kreacher has been keen to iron his ears for leaving you with Master Sirius, but knew you wouldn’t like it,” the elf said, tugging on his large, hairy ears in time with his words.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Kreacher! You’re my friend… I don’t want to see my friends hurt,” Hermione admonished the elf, sounding more like a young Regulus than she had any right to.

“Such a precious mistress… Kreacher is not worthy!” the elf sobbed, overcome with emotion as he wrapped both Sirius and Hermione in a hug.

The man swallowed down his disgust and anger. “Kreacher, take us to Rodolphus immediately.”

“Yes,” Kreacher muttered before apparating the pair into Rodolphus’ study.

The man was angrily writing to Severus, his quill smearing across the paper when the pop of apparition sounded in the study.

“What- precious,” Rodolphus breathed, standing up immediately at the sight of his little girl in Sirius’ arms.

Hermione looked at him, eyes immediately filling with tears.

“Sweetheart… come here. Daddy’s missed you so much,” Rodolphus said, tears filling his own eyes without regard for the fact that a man he didn’t trust could see him.

“No, not yet,” Hermione whispered as though it pained her.

“We can talk, anything you want,” Rodolphus acquiesced quickly. “Kreacher, bring us juice and sugar quills immediately.”

“Yes, Master Lestrange,” the elf replied happily.

“Go play with Uncle Reggie,” Hermione instructed her uncle with a kiss to his cheek.

“Yes ma’am,” Sirius replied, kissing her hair before putting her safely onto the ground.

Rodolphus let out a small sound at seeing their outfits, Hermione’s cheetah print dress and jean jacket matching the print of Sirius’ shirt and own jean jacket. The long-haired man winked before showing himself out of the room.

Hermione sat down in a chair across from her father, causing the man’s heart to break when he saw her shoulders were barely level with the desk. She should be in his lap, cuddled in his arms, not distrusting him before she’d even left for Hogwarts.

“Did you enjoy your time with your Uncle Sirius?” Rodolphus asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Yes, thank you,” Hermione said, manners ingrained in her.

“I’m sure you have some questions for me,” the man said, nodding to Kreacher as he set down a plate of Hermione’s favorite treats and juice in front of her.

“Why do I live here?” Hermione asked, starting right in on the thoughts that’d swirled around her head for over 24 hours now.

“Because I’m your daddy, sweetheart.”

“But why you? If they, um… if they took me, why’d I end up here?”

“Well, a long time ago, before you were born... there were problems with some bad people finding out about magic.”

Hermione interrupted, “Why were they bad, d-”  


Rodolphus tried to ignore the pain in his chest as she cut herself off. “Some people aren’t born with magical parents. They’re born to muggles or non-magic people.”

“Like the people at the zoo.”

“That’s right. So, imagine you live for almost 11 years with your parents while you’re doing little bits of magic that no one can explain… then someone comes to your house and tells you that you’re a witch and that you’ll need to go to a different school where you’ll learn magic. Then on top of that, they tell you you’ll still come home for the hols and summer. If Draco wasn’t magical, would you want to tell him?”

“I don’t keep secrets from my dragon,” Hermione replied, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“Imagine how many little girls and boys have friends and brothers and sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles they want to share with… how many people do you think would find out if all of these muggle-born boys and girls told just one or two people?”

“A lot.”

“That’s right… and what’s sad is that they don’t have magic, so they don’t understand it. They think it’s wrong and bad.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, a mystified expression on her face. Rodolphus didn’t let himself feel guilty for laying it on slightly thick. He needed Hermione to understand that she belonged with him.

“Daddy will find some books we can read together on this, but it’s very sad to learn about. People all over the world have always been scared of witches and wizards for some reason. They don’t understand what they can’t explain and to them magic is unexplainable.”

“So what happened with the witches and wizards who lived with non-magic people?”

“Well, they would tell their daddies and mummies and friends about our world. Some people would not be able to keep it to themselves and tell the wrong person. That has gotten a lot of witches and wizards hurt by mu- non-magic people.”

“What’s that have to do with me?”

“Your grandpa was very scared for magical people who were being born into non-magical families after some accidents occurred. So he and members of the Wizengamot, including me, made the choice to bring boys and girls into wizarding families after they first showed magic. It’s all to keep you safe, precious. We never want to see a little boy or girl get hurt, and this helps us do that.”

“Who was I born to?” Hermione asked with a quivering lip.

“Their names were Helen and Richard Granger,” Rodolphus answered honestly. After spending the past night tossing and turning in his bed, he’d decided to tell Hermione no lies about what he knew of the life that could’ve been for her.

“Did they love me?” Hermione asked quietly.

“I’m sure they did, sweetheart. It’s impossible not to.”

“Madam Lestrange doesn’t,” Hermione said quietly. “Why doesn’t she love me if she’s supposed to be my mummy?”

“Hermione…”

“Why don’t you ever tell me?” Hermione’s eyes filled with angry tears. “Dragon has his mummy and Colin and Dennis have two daddies and it’s not fair. Why do only you love me? What did I do wrong?”

“Oh, baby,” Rodolphus exclaimed sadly, unable to stop himself from moving around the table to scoop Hermione into his arms. “Don’t cry, don’t cry.”

“Why doesn’t she love me?”

The sick, manipulative voice in Rodolphus’ brain was screaming that this was the perfect opportunity to tell Hermione about her soon-to-be betrothal, but he wasn’t ready to AK two acromantulas with one unforgivable. He’d have to let her have a night of mourning one part of a life that could’ve been without completely overthrowing the autonomy she believed herself to have.

“Daddy wishes he was having this conversation with you when you were older, sweetheart… it’s very complicated. Would it make you feel better to know she doesn’t love me either? You’re my smart girl, you know that your uncles live together and so do Uncle Lucie and Aunt Cissa.”

“So why are you married then?”

“Like I said… it’s very complicated. All you need to know is that I love you and no one can know that we don’t live together.”

“That doesn’t make much sense…” Hermione said, trailing off as Rodolphus saw thoughts continue to work their way through her brilliant brain. “Is she my mummy?”

“Not in any way that matters,” Rodolphus replied immediately. “I know it’s hard to understand, but we have to keep that a secret from other people.”

“It’s to protect our family name and reputation, right? Draco has said that before.”

“Draco is right,” Rodolphus said, amused to hear of the mini Lucius they had on their hands.

“She’s not a good lady, daddy,” Hermione whispered, Rodolphus’ chest warming at hearing the name from her lips again. “I’ve Seen bad things.”

“I know, precious girl,” Rodolphus whispered back just as quietly. “She can never hurt you. Daddy will always protect you, and so will your family and our elves.”

“Our elves are family,” Hermione reminded the man with an impatient look.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Rodolphus replied fondly. “What else can daddy do to get you to forgive me?”

"You'll always be my daddy?"

"Always," Rodolphus vowed. "I'll never love anyone more than you, precious. You're my whole heart."

"I love you more, daddy," Hermione replied, squeezing him as tight as she could. "I was scared you didn't want me and they made you take me."

Rodolphus felt slightly guilty, remembering that first night when Hermione was foisted on him.

"Never, precious. Never."

"I have another question..." Hermione took a breath, “What’s a mudblood?”

“It’s an awfully mean word for someone who’s born to non-magical parents.”

“Am I a mudblood, daddy?”

“No, you’re not. Even if you were… we don’t use that word. The appropriate word is muggleborn.”

“Why did Ronald say that then? Are Luna and Daphne mudbloods?”

“Sweetheart, don’t use that word. Let’s get it out of your head. And no, they aren’t. When you girls were very little, you took special potions to make you members of our families and even look like daddy and their parents.”

“Wow,” Hermione said. “Do we know any muggleborns, daddy?”

“Lady Potter is muggleborn,” Rodolphus offered, knowing she was the tamest option for whatever his daughter was fishing for.

“Can I talk to her some day?”

“Of course, precious. Anything you want.”

“Can we have a sleepover tonight? Maybe with lemon cookies?” Hermione asked, lying her head on Rodolphus’ shoulder.

“That sounds like the perfect night to me. Let’s go get you in the bath and out of your little zoo outfit and into pyjamas.”

Hermione let out a pleased laugh, “Uncle Sirius said I look like a little cheetah girl and he’s even matching me. We got more clothes that are at his house, too. No trousers though, I don’t like those on my legs.”

“Oh Merlin,” Rodolphus said playfully. “I’m excited to see what you two picked out.”

“We even got a new book to read,” Hermione informed her father as he carried her down the hall to Rabastan and Regulus’ wing. “A nice man gave it to me, Uncle Sirius said it’s about a guy that created the world.”

Rodolphus gave his girl an incredulous look at that, but continued down the hall.

“Hello there, little darling,” Regulus said with a smile, standing up to take Hermione into his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“Hi Uncle Reggie,” Hermione said with a smile. “Was Uncle Siri nice to you? I made him promise.”

The youngest man let out a bark of laughter, “He was nice to me, thank you for keeping an eye on him.”

“Always,” Hermione said solemnly. “Can we get my new clothes from your house? I want to bring them here, please.”

“Of course, kitten. We’ll have Kreacher bring your things back here. Did your daddy like our matching outfits?”

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow at the man, “Despite your attempts to make my girl into your little wild child, I do like her outfits. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a jacket like this in one of our stores.”

“We got it in London, like when Uncle Sev and I go! And we got good food too. Pizza!”

Sirius smiled easily, “It’s Harry’s favorite. Just bread with sauce and melted cheese, not much better on this planet.”

“Hm, we might have to try that,” Rodolphus said casually, relishing the surprised noise that the Gryffindor made.

“Reg, would you mind taking Hermione to start her bath? Ruthy should already be in there,” Rodolphus asked.

“Of course, let’s go, little lady,” the man said, asking questions to Hermione that easily brought her from the room without protest.

Later that night, Hermione was overjoyed to finally be snuggled into Rodolphus’ bed against his chest.

“Let’s see… Chapter 1 is called Genesis… In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters…”

Hermione had never been farther from sleep after Rodolphus’ soothing reading than she was that night.

“So the woman did something wrong, so everyone got in trouble?”

“I guess so,” Rodolphus replied, just as perplexed by what he read as his daughter.

“How odd… one person did something bad, then everyone forever is in trouble. I don’t like that daddy,” Hermione said quietly.

“Me neither, darling,” Rodolphus replied. “Me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bible version is the NIV which was fully released in 1978.
> 
> Next chapter is to come soon and will include... Hogwarts! I expect the next one to be about 15k, so it likely won't be up for a few days.
> 
> As always... please comment! Let me know your thoughts/suggestions/errors I've made... Love you all and best wishes for good health! Also, I have a new fic based on Hermione and Luna traveling back to the Marauders era … I would love if you read it! https://thiscitychickk.tumblr.com/ message me on tumblr as well!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, all. Work is rough. I hope you enjoy- I promise another promise that we’ll make it to Hogwarts next chapter (and it’ll be a long one!) Setting plot points here. Still need to edit.

**August 3, 1990**

Hermione was smart, but there were some things that not even the smartest 10-year-old could process. She was grateful for the comfort of Draco’s hand in her own as they listened to Pansy Parkinson’s dad storm into what was previously a calm lunch hour.

Harry, who’d started sitting with the group during Hermione’s short absence, had an arm thrown around a shaking Daphne’s shoulder. Luna continued eating her radish salad without a care in the world for the grown man throwing a temper tantrum.

“I didn’t approve when it was in front of the Wizengamot and I sure as hell don’t approve now,” the spitting mad man screamed in a serene Dumbledore’s face. “You think we’re going to stand for this farce? Mudbloods will never be our equals, you mad man.”

“So you’ve said a few times now, Poseidon,” Dumbledore said serenely. “Would you like to continue this somewhere private without children present?”

“I don’t think I would,” the man replied with a huff. “If you won’t teach the children, then I will. Mudbloods are an abomination no matter what potions you shove down their throats. Dirty blood is still dirty blood.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as she saw her Uncle Sirius and a man who looked exactly like Mr. Prewett make their way out of the school with their wands held casually in their hands.

“Ah, the aurors have arrived,” Dumbledore said in a still-pleasant tone. “Gentleman, we have someone who’s come to upset the children. During their lunch hour, no less.”

“Mudbloods! Blood traitors! Disgraces, all of you,” Poseidon said as his arms were wrapped in ropes cast by Uncle Sirius.

“Uncle Siri is so cool,” Colin exclaimed, the entirety of the conversation seemingly not of any concern to him. Boys.

“Are you all right?” Draco asked quietly, grey eyes focused on Hermione.

“I’m fine,” the girl replied. “I don’t know why he had to be so rude in public.”

“With the way he was acting, it’s like he wanted to get the aurors called,” Harry murmured.

Hermione’s surprise at Harry’s observation had her forget her previous embarrassment and sadness over the continued scrutiny that she and some of her classmates were facing. The names of other children who’d undergone the ministry’s adoption process continued to come out, but none were as scrutinized as Hermione, Luna and Daphne. Hermione had tearfully asked her father why she was under attack like she was when Colin seemed to get off without a second glance, and she’d ended up having a heart-to-heart with Aunt Narcissa.

_“Oh, my angel,” Narcissa cooed, holding the small girl close to her side and letting out an uncharacteristic sigh. “Life is hard for us girls.”_

_“Why?”_

_“We’re living in a man’s world, dearest. My mother shared this with me when I was your age, so I want to do the same with you. I hope you don’t mind me saying you’re the closest thing I have to a daughter.”_

_“I wish you were my mum,” Hermione whispered through tears._

_“I am in every way that counts,” Narcissa whispered back before pressing a kiss on Hermione’s head. “Now, let me impart some girl to girl secrets…”_

Hermione didn’t know how to take the idea that men felt they were stronger and smarter than women as an explanation for anything. Why was she supposed to just accept that men were intimidated by powerful women? She’d come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t. Ron Weasley didn’t know what was coming for him.

It didn’t take long for parents to start trickling in after James Potter had seen the man brought into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and asked the minister what’d occurred in a meeting that was set for fifteen minutes later.

“This isn’t what we signed our kids up for,” an irritated Edgar Bones exclaimed, arms crossed across his chest.

“We didn’t sign them up for anything, this was mandatory!” Stellina Zabini replied in a light accent, her caramel-colored hair curled perfectly.

“If you could all allow me to close the door and explain,” Dumbledore replied lightly, flicking his hand to shut the double doors to the large floo lobby. “We don’t need to upset the children.”

“Respectfully, sir… the children are already upset,” Eudora Nott said quietly, held closely to her husband’s side.

“I’m quite glad you’re all here,” Dumbledore started as though he wasn’t being stared down by a room full of powerful witches and wizards who’d left their jobs to scold him. “There was quite an unfortunate act of prejudice today that I have to share with you all… I am just as upset and shocked as you are by the shows of hatred and, dare I say, racism displayed by some in our community after learning of the muggleborn background of some of your children.”

Rodolphus clenched his teeth together, knowing he had a role to play in the way this meeting went.

“As the former headmaster of so many in this room, I feel inclined to express my disappointment at the way some of our students have treated others. Bigotry begins at home and I had hoped to stamp that behavior out by bringing the children together prior to Hogwarts. It seems as though I may have been too late…” Dumbledore said, making eye contact with Lucius. The blond man was hard-pressed to keep his mouth shut, wanting to ask the senile headmaster what Draco had done that was anything other than supportive. The narrative he was weaving was clearly working in the eyes of other parents, as he noted the distrusting looks he and Narcissa received from the MacMillans, Turpins and Patils.

Molly Weasley had her lips pressed together tightly as she looked around the room, and Arthur had the decency to look embarrassed, knowing his wife’s role in what’d occurred just a week before.

“All I ask is that you allow the children to be children- free them of the bonds of expectation and tradition. What a beautiful world we’d have if they were all given the opportunity to become who they want to be,” the man said with a soft smile that had half of the room nodding and the other half rolling their eyes. “Now… let’s let the children finish their day out and I’ll see you all shortly.”

Rodolphus was hesitant to leave, but knew what was required of him by the man whose thumb he was under. He dreamed of a day where he was living a life that was his own.

“Daddy!” Hermione squealed, running and barrelling into the man once he’d stepped out of the floo.

“Hi precious,” Rodolphus cooed, pressing kisses all over her face. “Did you have a nice day?”

“Not quite,” Hermione replied, laying her head down on his shoulder and yawning. “Can we nap?”

“Yes, precious,” Rodolphus replied. “We can nap, but we’re going over to the Malfoys for dinner.”

“Really?” Hermione asked excitedly, exhaustion leaving her eyes.

“Really. Pop into your room and Pippet will help you get changed, I’ll see you in my room.”

Rodolphus smiled at the way Hermione dragged the fuzzy monstrosity that Severus bought her and her stuffed dragon into the room, unable to part with the stuffy and blanket even for one nap.

“Daddy, I don’t get why you don’t wear pajamas,” Hermione said with the cluck of her tongue.

Rodolphus smiled as he looked down at the girl.

“I’m comfortable enough to fall asleep, don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head as she laid down on the man like he was her own personal pillow. Rodolphus stroked her head, knowing that he was lucky to have been forgiven as easily as he had. He didn’t deserve his girl.

\--

“Pretty dress, Hermione,” Draco said with a slight blush, offering a hand to the girl as she stepped through the floo. Lucius looked on approvingly, having shown the boy how to help a lady step through the fireplace the week before. Narcissa, however, wasn’t pleased with having to travel back and forth for the lesson.

“Thank you, dragon,” Hermione replied with a smile, swishing the hem of her red and white polka dot dress back and forth. “What are we eating?”

“I don’t know actually,” Draco replied. “I bet mum had them make roast chicken and potatoes since you’re here.”

“With apple tart for dessert,” Hermione replied, bumping her shoulder into Draco’s.

The boy rolled his eyes, “With apple tart for dessert. Don’t blame me if it’s something else like… chocolate.”

“Aunt Cissa wouldn’t make something I can’t eat, Draco. Don’t be silly.”

“Time for dinner, children,” Lucius said with a small smile, leading the group towards the main dining room with his wife on his arm.

Hermione was shocked to see that they had their formal china set out, unsure of what the occasion was. Thankfully, her untactful Draco voiced her thoughts.

“Why are the fancy glass plates out?”

“It’s china, Draco,” Narcissa and Hermione said at the same time, sharing twin smirks.

“Why?” the boy asked again, face slightly red at being corrected by the women as he pushed Hermione’s chair in.

Lucius and Rodolphus shared a look, hoping the other man would take the reins. The blond sighed and rolled his shoulders back when Rodolphus didn’t relent.

“Let’s get this conversation out of the way so that we can eat the lovely dinner your mother planned,” Lucius said with less gentility than the moment required. “It’s been a trying week for all of us, and unfortunately it’ll only get more so. Tomorrow, Rodolphus and I will sign a betrothal contract between you both.”

“What?” Draco scoffed, eyes wide.

Hermione was silent, face white.

“This is not up for debate, Draco. You and Hermione are much like your mother and I, and your union will be similarly successful. You’re both too young to understand right now, but you’ll thank us later.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Draco said. “Why do we need to sign a contract? Why now?”

“Because it looks good,” Hermione said in a quiet voice. “The minister’s pure heir marrying the first adopted muggleborn. It’s a statement.”

Rodolphus grimaced, wanting nothing more than to get up from the table and wrap Hermione in his arms.

“Smart girl,” Lucius replied with a weak smile. “We are dealing with powers outside of our control, son. Please tell me I won’t have any problems from you.”

“No sir,” Draco said dutifully, knowing that he had a role to play.

“Are you all right, dear?” Narcissa asked Hermione, everyone noticing the tears sliding down her face.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered, putting on a fake smile. “I’m just feeling unwell suddenly. May I be excused?”

“Of course, angel,” the Malfoy patriarch said, the three men standing as Hermione got up. Rodolphus’ stomach rolled as he reached out to grab Hermione’s hand and she ignored it. The girl waited silently for the man to call out before stepping into the green fire.

Rodolphus could only give the trio of frowning blonds a sad smile before stepping through the floo himself.

\--

Hermione felt a pit in her stomach as she curled up on her bed, rubbing her fuzzy pink blanket along her cheek.

“Kreacher?” the girl said quietly, knowing the elf would pop in quickly.

“Kreacher’s precious little miss,” the elf croaked, a smile on his face as he climbed on the bed. Hermione didn’t understand why she was the only one who didn’t mind the elf’s desire to always be near her and Uncle Reggie. “How can I be helping you?”

“Can you have Uncle Sev come here and not tell daddy?”

“Yes, precious little miss,” the elf said with a nod. “Master Severus is being at the potions lab with Master Regulus.”

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Hermione said with a smile. The girl always felt loved by the elf, and his smiling face was something she really needed right now.

Hermione was a bit surprised when Kreacher apparated back into the room with Severus, the man looking at her tear-soaked face with a worried expression.

“Come here for a cuddle, Uncle Sev,” the girl said while patting her comforter.

She was pleased to see him toe off his shoes and hop in the bed immediately, having thought he would put up a fake fight as he often did. It didn’t bug her, though- she knew he loved having her in his life.

“What’s the fuss, little girl?” Severus asked as he climbed onto the bed sans shoes and cloak, rubbing a cheek against Hermione’s hair.

“Will you be mad if I ask about your future?” Hermione asked quietly, fixing her blanket so it lay over her, Uncle Sev and her stuffed dragon, Fire.

The man paused, making Hermione a little nervous.

“No, I won’t.”

Hermione sighed. It was hard to feel so much older than she was- she hadn’t even started Hogwarts yet, for Merlin’s sake and it already felt like life was so tough.

“I saw you with Lady Potter and you were sad. You were yelling and told her that no one ever picked you first, they just were your friend because it was convenient or smart. Why, Uncle Sev?”

The man inhaled sharply and Hermione started to feel antsy in the silence of the room. She didn’t do well with silence when it came after she’d spoken.

“My life has not been the easiest,” Severus started, voice quiet. “I grew up poor and lonely. I went to Hogwarts as a poor, lonely, dirty and greasy half-blood Slytherin. My house despised me because my father was a muggle and the rest of the school bullied me because of my tattered robes and high marks. Your uncles and father are the only friends I’ve ever had… along with Lily.”

“Why aren’t you still friends?” Hermione piped up, unable to keep the question to herself.

“I confess that I wish you would’ve never had to learn this lesson, my dear, but some people aren’t kind. They find joy in bringing others down to try and bring themselves up.”

“Who was mean to you, Uncle Sev?” Hermione asked quietly, feeling the need to crawl into her uncle’s lap. She couldn’t be sure which one of them she hoped would find comfort from the move.

“It doesn’t much matter anymore, Hermione. I have all the family I need now- I’m very lucky.”

Hermione smiled smally, “You’ll get a bigger family too, but I can’t talk about that yet.”

Severus made a choked noise before shaking his head. He didn’t want to think about the little girl’s words.

“Now, what prompted you to ask about this?”

Hermione sighed, tears filling the emotional girl’s eyes.

“Draco has to marry me,” she said quietly.

Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise, glad she couldn’t see him.

“How do you feel about that?”

“Sad,” she whimpered. “No one ever picks me.”

“Explain.”

The girl was crying openly now and took a few minutes to get a hold of herself. Severus bit back the urge to snap at her.

“Daddy didn’t pick me, Uncle Tom just gave me to him. He couldn’t even say no. Now, my dragon didn’t get to pick me and he’s stuck with me. No one picked me.”

Severus hushed the girl, rocking her in his arms.

“Don’t be silly, little girl. Your father loves you more than anything else in the world… he always wanted a little girl just like you. You’re the best gift he’s ever received, and you know that. And your dragon loves you. You both are far too young to think about getting married, but one day you may grow to love one another.”

“No, Uncle Sev! Hermione has seen us getting married. I’ve seen lots of Draco and I together. I thought he picked me.”

The man nodded, understanding now why the girl was beside herself.

“Sweet girl,” Severus crooned. “How exciting to know that you and Draco will be happy together. Just because you’re betrothed doesn’t mean that he has to love you. What you’ve Seen is the two of you enjoying time together and getting along. He picked you as his friend when you were both little and continues to pick you today. Who does he want to spend time with? Who is the only person he shares his sugar quills with?”

“Me,” Hermione said quietly.

“That’s right,” Severus replied. “Don’t be silly. You are the most loved little girl I know. You’ve even got grouchy Uncle Severus wrapped around your finger.”

Hermione giggled, “You’re not grouchy, Uncle Sev. People just don’t try and get to know you. They’re silly.”

The man smiled to himself, “My sweet girl. I’ve heard your little stomach grumble five times now. I want you to go hug your father and eat some dinner or I’ll give you detention for a week once you’re at Hogwarts.”

The girl gasped, “No! I don’t want to ever go to detention.”

“Then follow my instructions,” the man said, smile betraying his severe tone.

Hermione turned around in his lap, giving the man a squeeze and running a hand through his soft black hair.

“I love you, Uncle Sev. You make me so happy.”

“I love you too,” Severus said, kissing the girl. “Now get out of here.”

“You’re the one in my room,” Hermione giggled, letting out a yelp as the man growled and chased her from the room in a flurry of black robes.

“Daddy?” Hermione yelled, feeling too lazy to check every room.

“Sweetheart?” Rodolphus yelled back, clomping up the stairs until he saw the girl. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione launched herself into his arms. “Nothing, daddy. I just wanted to talk. And eat.”

“Aunt Cissa just had some roast chicken sent over, we can go eat downstairs.”

“Can we eat on the comfy couch?” the girl asked.

“Of course, precious,” Rodolphus replied, calling for an elf to bring food up to Hermione’s favored living room as he carried her into the room.

“Thank you, Litty,” Hermione said to the elf that brought food in. It was one that Rodolphus wasn’t sure he’d met before, but he didn’t question the girl’s knowledge. “Could you please bring some pumpkin apple juice?”

“Yes, mistress!” the elf said with a squeak before popping out of the room. Rodolphus plated Hermione’s food as best as he could on the low table.

“Thank you daddy,” the girl said as she dug in and watched her father start to make his own plate.

“That was very nice of Aunt Cissa to make your favorite food,” Rodolphus said conversationally.

Hermione swallowed her food.

“The elves made it, daddy, but Aunt Cissa was thoughtful to have them do so.”

Rodolphus tried not to roll his eyes at the girl’s correction.

“I’m sorry to have surprised you at dinner- I would’ve told you if I was able to. Daddy was surprised, too.”

“Whose idea was this?”

  
“Does it matter?”

“I want to know.”

“It was your Uncle Tom’s idea.”

Hermione let out a sigh. “Why does he have such bad ideas?”

Rodolphus laughed a little, stabbing a potato with more force than necessary.

“He thinks he’s doing the right thing, precious. Has my Hermione Seen anything about this?”

The girl sighed again. Narcissa would be horrified.

“Yes, that’s why I’m sad. I thought Draco was going to love me, but now he has to. Uncle Sev said that isn’t true, that he likes me because we play together.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rodolphus said with a sigh. “You’re my smart girl and sometimes we forget how young you are. I need you to know that even if Uncle Tom wanted something, I’d never do it if I thought it would really hurt you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Rodolphus smiled weakly, “You don’t have to say it’s okay just to make me feel better, precious.”

Hermione crawled into the man’s lap, “It’s okay, daddy. Uncle Sev told me you love me the most.”

“What would make you question that, Hermione?”

“Because you didn’t get to pick me. Uncle Tom made you take me.”

Rodolphus exhaled sharply, “Oh, angel. Daddy always wanted his little girl, you know that. You’re the best part of my life.”

Hermione smiled and booped the man on the nose cutely. “I know, daddy. That’s why I’ll never be mad at you.”

“Thank Merlin for that, darling. I’d be nothing without my girl.”

“I love you, daddy. Can I see Draco tomorrow? I don’t want him to be sad.”

“I love you more. Of course you can. I’m sure he’s asked his parents the same.”

  
\--  
“Hello Hermione,” Draco said awkwardly, eyes bulging at the girl’s giggle.

“Why are you being weird, Draco?”

“You…” the boy spluttered, unable to put a sentence together.

“I’m okay now. There’s nothing we can do, and I already Saw us together. We’re happy,” Hermione said nonchalantly.

“Really? You did?” the boy asked, eyes wide as he stared at the little Seer.

Hermione giggled again. “Of course I did. We have lots of fun, but you always get mad because my marks are better than yours.”

Draco scoffed. “Malfoys are always the best in everything, Hermione. You Saw wrong.”

The girl rolled her eyes to the sky. “That’s what you say when we’re older too, dragon.”

“Of course, because I’m number one! Father says Malfoys always are.”

Hermione stood up and dusted off her burnt orange dress. “You’re wrong. So wrong that you had to buy me a bookstore and a kneazle to be forgiven.”

Draco stood frozen, jaw dropped unattractively as he watched the girl flounce out of the room with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep me motivated! Thanks for all of the love and thoughts, friends.
> 
> Keep up with me at thiscitychickk.tumblr.com - accepting prompts and thoughts! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive, fueled by Hamilton now being available on Disney+.
> 
> Enjoy this and note that I haven't looked it over for mistakes yet. Just wanted to get it up for yall first!

“I’m not evil,” Hermione whimpered through tears, curling closer on her uncle’s lap. The comfort of someone she knew loved her without conditions meant more than ever three days into her time at Hogwarts. 

“There there,” Severus crooned. “Tell me what happened.”

“Ronald Weasley said I was an evil snake and only did well on my essays because I cheated,” the girl said with a quivering lower lip, unable to hide her upset despite the confrontation taking place before double potions.

Severus laughed slightly, “How does he propose that you would cheat on papers that you are allowed to use your books for?”

Hermione beamed up at the man through her tears. “Right, Uncle Sev! He’s so rude, I wanted to hurt him. Please don’t tell daddy.”

The man raised a brow, “I won’t tell your father, little girl. But I ask that you refrain from hurting Mr. Weasley or other dunderheads.”

“I won’t. I don’t even know how to hurt someone,” she sighed. “I just want him to stop talking to me, especially on my birthday.”

“Have patience. He’ll soon make a comment in front of the wrong person,” Snape promised with a smile. He hoped, for the boy’s sake, that it was him and not Tom.

xxxxxxxxxx

“You need to eat more than that,” Draco said with a soft nudge.

Hermione shook her head, “My tummy hurts every time I eat this food, dragon. It’s shiny and gross.”

“It’s called adding flavor,” Vincent Crabbe said through a mouthful of food. “Butter and oil makes everything better.”

“That may be so, but mother said it sticks to your hips like toffee,” Pansy replied as she scooped up peas, the only green food in sight.

“Mine does too,” Daphne said with a small smile towards the girl. Being roommates with Pansy had been tenuous at first, but the ice was broken the first night when the girl called an elf to their dormitory to bring them all hot chocolate. She’d smiled primly and shared that her older brother had told her about the elves that kept the castle running, and that was enough to form a tentative friendship between the girls.

“Don’t much care about that,” Crabbe replied with a shrug, fried sausage crumbs hitting Gregory Goyle’s cheek next to him.

“Clearly,” Tracey Davis, a Scottish girl with red hair muttered, drawing a laugh and approving look from Theodore Nott.

“I’m not sure what other students grew up eating, but I can’t do this,” Hermione said with the shake of her head.

“What do you propose?” Blaise asked with wide eyes. He was a bit overwhelmed by the headstrong girls in his house and never wanted to cross them. He’d do whatever they asked of him, he’d learned that by the time his mum’s fourth husband came on the scene.

The curly-haired girl tapped her cheek thoughtfully and hummed. “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“Of course I’ll be your professor sponsor,” Tom crooned with a grin, already overjoyed by the prospect of what was to come. “What a brilliant idea, ladies. It’s time someone takes an interest in the health of our students.”

“Thank you, Uncle Tom,” Hermione replied with a blush and pleased look at the girls next to her. “You don’t think the headmaster will be upset with us, do you?”

“You’re only promoting the health of your fellow classmates, I can’t see why he’d have a problem with your endeavor,” Tom said with what he hoped to be an easy smile. Maybe the old kook would combust without Tom having to lift a finger.

“Quite right!” Pansy exclaimed with a haughty purse of her lips. “I can’t live like this much longer, I should’ve gone to Beauxbatons while I had the chance.”

“Same,” Millicent Bulstrode said with a fervent nod. The girl stuck out like a sore thumb from the other four Slytherin first years, choosing to wear pants instead of skirts and pulling her hair back into a gelled-back, tight ponytail every morning that made her head look like a cinder block. Tom didn’t think she was ugly, perse, but could tell she was hitting her awkward phase much younger than most of his students. He knew that the Greengrass and Parkinson girls would make her less unseemly, if only by the grace of beauty charms.

“I am proud of your determined spirits, ladies. Thirty points to Slytherin,” Tom smiled as the girls squealed happily.

“Oh, thank you! We will keep you updated, but we have work to do.” Hermione said as she stood up, tossing her leather bag over her shoulder. “Oh! Here’s your pin. Adrian Pucey helped us charm them.”

Tom let out a rare, pleased laugh as he looked down at the dark gray pin. A well-drawn brussels sprout burst into glitter before the perfectly calligraphed “Students for Eating Well” appeared in white, the vegetable appearing again moments later.

“Five points to Mr. Pucey for helping his classmates and impressive charmwork,” Tom proclaimed. “I’ll keep this on my desk, thank you.”

“Of course! We’re working on our brochures today, we’ll bring you them once we finish to share with other professors,” Hermione said as she waved and walked out of the room.

Tom added another score to his column in the never-ending battle against Albus Dumbledore.

xxxxxxxxxx

“He didn’t ask any of you for a meeting?” Hermione said with a furrowed brow, stomach fluttering nervously.

“Nope,” Pansy replied, popping the ‘P.’

“Why are you so worried?” Draco asked, scooping roast chicken without the skin and asparagus onto Hermione’s plate before sliding it in front of her.

“Thank you, dragon. It’s just curious, is all. Everyone knows that we’re all working together on S.P.E.W., I don’t know why he wants to only visit with me.”

“We’ll know soon,” Theo replied diplomatically.

“I’ll see you all back in the common room,” Hermione said with a tight smile as she separated from the group and headed towards where she knew the headmaster’s office to be.’

“If you’re not back in an hour I’m telling Uncle Tom,” Draco said, face tight with worry.

Hermione’s stomach roiled as she saw the headmaster waiting for her. She expected to at least have a moment to take a breath and regroup, but the old man took that away from her. Maybe her uncles were right with their disdain for him, not that she’d tell her daddy she’d judged someone without getting to know them. He’d be so disappointed in her.

“Hello, Miss Lestrange,” the man donning lilac robes with silver stars on them said, a small smile on his face.

“Good evening, sir. I hope you’ve had a good day,” Hermione blurted out, internally chastising herself for starting out with such a weird, informal comment.

“How could I not when I’m at Hogwarts?” he replied before stroking the head of a gargoyle that then moved to reveal a staircase.

“Wow,” Hermione breathed. 

“Wonderful, isn’t it?”

“The castle’s magic is unbelievable.”

“One of the wonders of the world, Miss Lestrange. We’re lucky to be on the receiving end of magic’s kindness.”

Hermione noted the way that the man talked about magic like it was sentient, knowing she’d ask her daddy about it later. The girl took a seat in the cushy maroon seat in front of the headmaster’s desk and politely waited for the man to speak.

“I received paperwork for Hogwarts’ newest club. I’m quite surprised to see that it’s less about fun and more about overhauling meals that students have enjoyed for hundreds of years.”

Hermione swallowed, “Respectfully sir, many of us are not used to this level of richness in their meals. We simply wanted to open up the opportunity for discussion on what food is being served here. You said it yourself, sir. The options haven’t been changed in hundreds of years.”

“You’re young yet, Miss Lestrange, but you’ll come to learn that tradition is tradition for a reason. You may one day come to appreciate ideas that you currently see as antiquated, dear.”

The girl felt patronized with the use of the word, fighting down the intense urge to scoff at the headmaster. Daddy always taught her to respect her elders, but he also taught her to stand her ground in the face of people treating her poorly. She wished he was there.

“I’m sure, sir.”

“Now, onto far more interesting subjects. First, would you like a lemon drop?”

“Yes, that sounds delightful,” Hermione said with a small smile, knowing that it would be rude not to accept the proffered glass dish full of treats.

“Oh!” Dumbledore exclaimed when he’d almost reached Hermione, dropping the glass dish on her arm.

The girl’s eyes welled with tears at the sharp scratch when the treat holder fell, looking down to see an inch long scrape welling with blood.

“Oh, oh dear. Apologies, Miss Lestrange. You’ll have to forgive an old man’s shaky hands.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Let me clean you up,” Dumbledore said as he conjured a cloth and blotted the blood off of her arms. “I apologize, that was my last batch of treats. You’ll have to come back and enjoy them once I've replenished them.”

“No worries, sir,” Hermione replied, standing up at the casual dismissal. She was a bit shocked that the man didn’t offer to heal her and felt a bit hurt that he clearly had so much disdain for her. Wasn’t he like 150 years older than her? Shouldn’t he have been a bit more mature than that? “Have a nice evening.”

“You as well,” the man said, already turning back to the messy array of parchments in front of him.

Hermione let out a wince as she stepped into the hallway, legs almost buckling with relief when she ran into her Uncle Tom patrolling the corridors.

“What’s the matter, little one?” Tom asked, eyes immediately trained on the way she was cradling her hand. 

“Just a scratch,” Hermione murmured with a small smile.

“How’d you get a scratch this far from the dungeons, this close to curfew? We’re going to my office.”

“Yes, sir. Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to come to his office after dinner, there was an incident with a candy dish.”

Tom grit his teeth, trying to keep his anger tamped down in the face of the little girl.

The long walk down to the dungeons was quiet and Hermione was desperate for some conversation by the time her uncle warded the doors to his office and bed chambers shut.

“Tell me what happened.”

The man gripped the bridge of his perfect nose between two fingers when Hermione described the incident with the candy dish and a towel, wondering what the hell the old man wanted with the girl’s blood. Not that he’d tell her or her father that, of course.

“There you are, darling,” Tom said a while later after he’d healed her arm.

“Thank you,” Hermione said with a small smile. “I wish daddy was here.”

“I’m sure… let’s get you up to bed, I’m sure Draco is wondering where you are,” Tom said, unable to fully play into the sentiments the girl was always so open with. 

Hermione giggled, “He’s always worried about me, just like daddy.”

“There are worse things, little one,” Tom replied, accepting the hug from the girl before watching her leave. He had a lot of thinking to do- what was Dumbledore doing taking blood from a 12-year-old girl?

xxxxxxxxx

“This is brilliant, Draco,” Hermione beamed.

“So is yours,” the blond replied, eyes scanning the last two sentences of the girl’s essay. “Mum and dad are going to be so proud of our marks. We’ll probably get extra presents for Christmas.”

Hermione laughed, “Draco! It’s not about presents, it’s about trying hard and doing well.”

“If trying hard and doing well get me presents, I’m not going to complain.”

“You’re incorrigible,” the girl replied with the shake of her head. “I can’t wait to be home. I love Hogwarts, but it isn’t home.”

Draco paused. “Do you think you’ll be happy living at the Manor one day?”

Hermione let out a thoughtful noise. “I think so. Daddy is always welcome there, so I’m not worried. I just don’t want him to be lonely.”

“Well… maybe one day he can get another wife.”

“Really?” Hermione asked.

“I’m not sure. We’d have to ask mum, but I know that it wouldn’t be the first time… she might just have to die first.”

“Draco!” Hermione hissed, looking around the library to see if anyone had heard him. Thankfully, no one looked up. “You can’t say that.”

“What?” the boy shrugged. “It’s true. She’s a menace.”

“Stop it! People could hear you, and that’s just mean.”

“Okay, okay. I’m saying what we’re both thinking.”

Hermione just shook her head, her lack of reply being the confirmation that Draco needed. He went to bed that night dreaming about Bellatrix’s death at the end of his own wand.

xxxxxxxxx

“Grab my trunk please, dragon!” Hermione ordered before whipping out of the compartment.

“Is the train on fire?” Blaise asked, rubbing his eyes after waking up from a nap.

“You think we’d still be here if that was the case?” Pansy asked with a raised brow. “She’s excited to see her father.”

“Ah,” Blaise replied with a nod. “Can’t say I know how that feels.”

The girls rolled their eyes before standing up, helping each other button up their cloaks before stepping off of the train. The subject of fathers was still a poor one where Pansy was involved. The man had been taken to the Janus Thickey Ward after the incident at camp. The Prophet wrote that he’d either been poisoned or cursed on a trip to Hong Kong, but Pansy didn’t much like to talk about it. Hermione found out quickly that the girl stayed as far away as she could from anything involving emotions.

Draco walked out to find Hermione held in her father’s arms, heart clenching a bit as he got close enough to hear her breathy sobs.

“Draco, darling,” Narcissa said with a proper smile on her face before gently pulling the boy in for a quick hug. He knew he’d get more affection from her in private where it was more appropriate. He’d never knock Hermione, knowing that girls were able to cry and be excited in public… he didn’t really get it, but he’d let her do whatever made her happy.

“Hello, mother. I’ve missed you,” Draco smiled. “Where’s father?”

“He’s at the Ministry with grandfather, he’ll be home for dinner. The whole family is on their way over, so we must get going.”

“The whole family?” Draco asked, questioning the oddly specific phrasing.

“Yes, darling. Your uncles, cousins and your aunt.”

“Ah,” Draco replied stiffly. Why was that bint invited?

“Draco and I have the trunks, Rod. We’ll meet you at the Manor,” Narcissa said quietly before grabbing Draco’s hand and apparating him home.

“Get washed up, everyone will be here in ten,” Narcissa replied with a smile that looked tight now that Draco knew to look.

“Yes, mother,” Draco obeyed dutifully, heading up to his room.

He was excited to see his cousins, having told Colin all about what it was like being in Slytherin. Draco truly didn’t know if his fun loving, wide-eyed cousin would be in his house, honestly, but he was ready for him to be at Hogwarts. It was too tough to write to him every few days and have to share everything that was going on with him, his mother, his father and his grandfather. His hand hurt after corresponding so much and keeping up with his schoolwork.

“Son,” Lucius said when Draco made his way down the stairs.

“Father, good to see you,” the boy said with a respectful smile.

“You as well. I look forward to hearing about your time at Hogwarts, just keep it calm. Your mother is already stressed as is with hosting so many people,” Lucius murmured, putting a comforting arm around the boy’s shoulder in a rare display of affection.

“Always, sir.”

“Draco!” Dennis called excitedly as the first year walked into the formal dining room, waving from where he sat in between his fathers.

“Good to see you, Dennis. You too Colin,” Draco said with less enthusiasm than he was feeling, knowing that anything could set his mother off when she was stressed. He was interested to see both his Uncle Tom and Severus were there even though he knew they weren’t scheduled to leave Hogwarts until tomorrow. Not for the first time, or the last, he wished that he was old enough to be privy to important information. It wasn’t fair that he was kept out of the loop so often.

“Everyone take a seat, Rod and Hermione will be here shortly,” Narcissa ordered as she walked in, forest green robes floating behind her as Lucius pushed her seat into the table.

“Yes ma’am,” Abraxas replied with a twinkle in his eye at the head of the table. It was one of those occasions where they were in mixed company, so Tom was sat at the right hand of Abraxas rather than the head of the table. Draco let none of this go unnoticed.

Draco looked up at his Aunt Bellatrix out of the corner of his eye. The woman was sat right between Narcissa and Severus, his mother clearly hoping the pair would be able to keep her on her best behavior. The boy would believe it when he saw it.

“Sorry for the delay,” Rodolphus said as he walked into the room, holding his tiny daughter’s hand.

“No worries,” Abraxas said with a tip of his head. “Hello, darling girl.”

Hermione made her way around the table, hugging and kissing everyone except for Bellatrix.

“Mummy’s always left out,” Bellatrix pouted, taking a sip of her wine.

“Can it,” Severus hissed, receiving a feral hiss in return from the unwanted woman.

Draco was disappointed to see that Hermione was sat between Tom and her father, keeping him two seats away from her.

The first years were asked about their year so far, Hermione blushing and pleased at the doting comments from the two professors who were present.

“Now everyone knows how smart my girl is,” Rodolphus crooned, dropping a kiss on Hermione’s curls. Everyone ignored the snort that came from Bellatrix.

Abraxas finally cleared his throat after dinner, leaving Draco to feel pleased at having realized that this wasn’t a normal dinner hours before. How was that for skills of observation?

“I have an announcement to make, and it was only fitting to share with all of my loved ones at once. This will be my last term as minister… I will not be running for re-election.”

Draco scanned the table to drink in everyone’s reactions. The only people who didn’t look shocked were his parents and Tom. Even Uncle Severus looked slightly taken aback.

“You’ve served our people well, Abraxas,” Tom said with the lift of his glass. “We’re forever better for the strides you’ve made… which is why your successor must uphold the changes you’ve enacted and continue on a path towards greater prosperity.”

The room was silent in anticipation. Not even Dennis or Colin made noise.

“I’m announcing my campaign for minister after Abraxas’ announcement,” Tom then said, drawing happy reactions from all of the adults.

Abraxas then shared a look with Tom. “I’ll announce my endorsement of his campaign, of course.”

“While I’d rather not be left alone at Hogwarts, I know you’ll be an excellent minister,” Severus said with a nod.

“Who’s going to teach us?” Hermione said with a glum look. She, of course, had Seen that her uncle would be running for minister some time in the near future, but she hadn’t realised that he’d leave her without a defense professor.

“I’m sure the headmaster will be more than happy to finally fill the position with someone he finds sufficient, dearest.”

“Not for long,” Rabastan muttered, leaving Draco confused at what his uncle meant. Another item to add to his long list of moments to think back on later.

“When will you announce?” Regulus asked.

“Over the spring holidays, I think it best to wait and see the landscape of opponents who will surely announce the moment that Abraxas speaks.”

“It’ll be interesting to see who comes out of the woodwork,” Regulus replied with a nod.

“We’ll take them all down!” Bellatrix crowed.

“That’ll hardly be necessary,” Tom replied without a glance at the woman who was now pouting. “Brute force is nothing compared to charisma.”

xxxxxxxxx 

“I think he’s sweet,” Hermione said with a long look towards her friends. “Maybe you should try and talk to people before judging them by how they look.”

Pansy looked at Hermione as though that was a revelation she’d never considered.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“He’s really good at herbology too,” Hermione replied lightly. “Maybe you should try and partner up with him.”

“We’ll see. Enough school talk for now. Mother wrote and said I can go to Greece as long as your father is there!”

“Mine too!” Daphne squealed.

“This is going to be the best summer ever,” Hermione said with a sigh. “Top in our year and going on a trip together.”

“Whatever you say, as long as we get to go shopping and out on a yacht!”

Daphne giggled, “It’s yaaaht. No ch noise.”

“Yaaaaht, yacht, all the same to me. As long as I can lay on a boat and meet rich boys with nice accents,” Pansy sniffed as she laid back on a blanket.

It was the first nice day that they’d seen all spring, and the students of Hogwarts had flocked to the green hills surrounding the Black Lake. The girls had watched with disgust as a pasty Ron Weasley joined two Gryffindor boys in running into the lake, screaming in terror as a tentacle made its way towards them. Gryffindors.

“Ladies, we come bearing gifts,” a smooth Adrian Pucey exclaimed. Hermione wasn’t too caught up in her studies to have noticed the tall second year, his jawline decidedly chiseled and his wide eyes as green as the grass. She didn’t join her dormmates in giggling over him at night, but knew he was cute. Just not as cute as her dragon.

Hermione hid her pout as the boy handed out corked glasses of bright orange pumpkin juice. She’d cried the first time that Marcus Flint and Thorfinn Rowle called her a spoiled princess after four large owls flew into the Great Hall with a delivery of pumpkin-apple juice in a forever-freeze icebox, but felt immensely better after her Uncle Tom gave them a talking to. If it made her happy and kept her healthy, who cares?”

“And a drink for you, princess,” Draco murmured quietly, holding out what she knew to be a corked container of pumpkin-apple juice.

“Oh, dragon! Thank you, I’m so thirsty.” Hermione beamed, taking the glass as soon as her betrothed uncorked it.

“Gross,” Blaise muttered, shaking his head at the pair. Draco shot a stinging hex at him, pleased to see that he continued to get better with every shot. Practice made perfect, after all.

“Who would’ve guessed this is how first year would’ve gone?” Theo asked after a comfortable silence.

“Not me,” Daphne replied with the shake of her head. “I can do so much magic now, Tori is going to be so jealous.”

“Same with Colin and Dennis,” Hermione shared a smile with Draco. “It’ll be nice to see them over the summer, though. I still wonder who’s taking Uncle Tom’s spot as Defense prof.”

“I can’t believe you get away with calling him and Professor Snape uncle,” Theo replied with a small laugh.

“I don’t even get away with it and Snape’s my godfather,” Draco cried.

“Too bad!” Hermione snipped. “I just want to know who’s going to teach us, we learned so much from him that anyone who comes in will likely be a step down.”

“Don’t be so negative,” Blaise admonished gently. “We have no idea. The headmaster might do something right for once. Maybe he’ll teach us!”

“Yuck, I don’t want him in our classroom,” Pansy replied. “He’ll get someone hurt. Barmy man walked by me last week and cut my arm with his quill.”

“What?” Hermione asked, sitting up and suddenly alert.

“Did I not tell you?” Pansy asked slowly. 

“No, Pans.”

“Oh well. He’s just an old man who can’t watch where he’s going. Mopped it up with a conjured towel and didn’t even take the time to heal me.”

“Did you go to a professor?” Daphne asked with wide blue eyes.

“Nope,” the girl popped the ‘p’ in her normal way. Hermione was excited to see Aunt Cissa’s reaction to the girl’s sometimes pedestrian way of speaking. “Perseus healed me, it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Hermione said quietly, wishing she’d Seen something that would help her explain away the bad feeling in her tummy. Once was happenstance, and twice was coincidence. What was the headmaster up to?

xxxxxxxxx

“Can we just lay today, daddy? My tummy hurts,” Hermione asked as she pushed around the fruit on her plate.

“Of course, precious,” Rodolphus replied, squinting at his daughter to see if he could pinpoint what was ailing her. “Gildy, bring some soothing tea to my room with a fruit tray.”

“Right away master!” the elf replied, always hovering on the edge of whatever room the pair was in.

Hermione felt guilty at the relief she felt over her uncles and cousins being away for the week with Grandma Walburga and Grandpa Orion. The group was enjoying a week on an island that Blacks owned off the coast of Indonesia, and Hermione felt like she could breathe easier with the quiet of the manor. She never knew how much she’d missed silence until she got to Hogwarts, never quite finding time to be alone whether it was class, studying or mealtime. A little time with her daddy was what she needed, especially when she wasn’t feeling great.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” Rodolphus said, picking the girl up in his arms.

“Colin thinks I’m too big for you to carry me,” Hermione informed the man with a pout.

“Your cousin is wrong,” Rodolphus said with the roll of his eyes. “As long as you want me to carry you, I will. Daddy works out just so he can be strong enough to pick you up.”

Hermione giggled, dropping her cheek onto the man’s shoulder and sighing in contentment. She didn’t feel like changing out of her dressing gown for breakfast, and now that she knew they’d have a quiet day she was keen on staying in her sleep clothes for the whole day.

“Change back into comfortable clothes, please.”

“Let’s get you settled first,” Rodolphus replied soothingly.

“Pippet? Can you bring me my blanky and Fire, please?” Hermione asked as they walked, knowing the elf would be listening.

“Already on Master Roddy’s bed, mistress!” the elf said as she popped into the hallway and skipped next to them.

“Thank you! You’re the best,” Hermione replied honestly.

“Pippet loves her mistress,” the elf cheered, drawing a blush out of Rodolphus’ girl.

Hermione was blissed out as she snuggled up to her daddy’s chest, letting out a hum of contentment.

“Feeling better after your nap?” Rodolphus asked, gently putting down the book he’d been reading while the girl slept.

“Yes, I never want to move. I wish my bed at school felt like this.”

“I’ll send an elf with a new mattress when they bring your linens,” Rodolphus said, making a mental note. “You should’ve told me.”

“It’s okay, daddy, just not as comfortable as ours at home.”

“Still. You won't sleep on a subpar mattress next semester.”

“Okay,” Hermione shrugged. “I’ll let the girls know so they can bring mattresses too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rodolphus replied. “I’m happy you’ve made such good friends.”

“Me too. It’s nice to have girl friends now, I’ve always just played with boys. Do you think Luna’s going to be able to come to the beach? I want her to meet everyone before school starts.”

“Hm, I’m sure she’ll be able to. There’s more than enough room for her parents to stay with us if they’re concerned about leaving her alone.”

“And Draco will be next door?”

“Right. The Malfoys, Zabinis, Notts, Puceys, Flints and Rowles will stay next store while the girls are with us and your cousins. It’ll be a week full of headaches.

“Don’t be negative, daddy! We’ll have fun.”

“I’m just joking, precious. I’m looking forward to showing you around Greece. I know you’ll love it.”

“I can’t wait! Marcus said that there’s a shop that sells only kneazles, maybe I can get a kitten!”

“Is that right?”

“Well, I did get the highest marks in my year and I’ve Seen a kitty living with me in my second year,” Hermione drawled with a shy smile up at the man.

“We’ll have to see,” Rodolphus answered, knowing full well he’d get the girl whatever she wanted, especially if she’d already Seen it. Hermione’s visions sometimes didn’t come to fruition, but she had an 100 percent accuracy rate with gifts she’d Seen herself receiving. Go figure.

xxxxxxxxx

“Daddy!” Hermione screamed the next morning, voice full of horror.

The man ran down the hallway, smashing his shoulder into the doorframe when he’d overshot the girl’s room.

“Hermione?” Rodolphus asked breathlessly.

“Daddy, I’m bleeding!” she screeched, causing Rodolphus to scramble into the bathroom.

He was not prepared to see his little girl with bloody knickers in her hand, but was relieved that her dressing gown was pulled down. He wasn’t prepared for… this.

“Oh, precious,” Rodolphus sighed as he took in the sight of her eyes welling with tears. “You’re okay, you’re okay. Just put those down and come here.”

“Okay,” she sniffed, body trembling as she lay her now bloodied white knicker on the ground. Rodolphus’ stomach was tight at the thought of his baby growing into a woman.

“Gildy, get Narcissa please.”

“What’s wrong with me, daddy?” Hermione asked as she quickly and thoughtfully washed her hands before leaping into the man’s open arms, tears soaking his shirt.

“Your aunt is better equipped to explain, precious. You’re just fine, though. I promise.”

Rodolphus moved out to Hermione’s room, glad to see his girl’s two nanny elves pop in to clean what looked like the beginning of a crime scene.

“What’s going on, darling?” Narcissa asked as she walked in, looking perfectly put together despite the early hour.

Rodolphus steeled himself to take a breath and share what was going on despite the awkwardness that he felt.

“Hermione started her menses.”

Narcissa’s eyes lit up with excitement and sympathy. 

“Oh, my sweet girl. Give your daddy a hug, then we can have some girl time.”

“Yes, Aunt Cissa,” Hermione replied, ever dutiful despite the uncertainty she felt at leaving her daddy when she was bleeding out.

Rodolphus let out a sigh of relief once he was out of the room, pleased to be as far away from the situation as he could. He’d do anything for his little girl, but even explaining… that was a step too far. Not for the first time, he wished he had a wife who cared enough to raise their daughter.

xxxxxxxxx

“So… this is normal?” Hermione asked. “And it happens every month?”

“Just about,” Narcissa replied easily, scrubbing shampoo into Hermione’s curls. She’d started by getting the girl into a warm bath, knowing it’d help soothe her cramps. “When you’re just starting your cycle it’ll be a bit irregular. Once you’re in fifth year it should become regular.”

“That’s awful! I don’t want to bleed every month. What if I bleed down my leg at school?”

Narcissa laughed lightly. “That won’t happen, darling. We’ll get you protection and some pain relief potions to keep with you once you’re back at school.”

“What if I get it at the beach? Will sharks try to eat me?”

“No, dear. You’ll be just fine, you’re not the first girl to visit the beach on her menses and you won’t be the last. It just means that you’re maturing into a woman.”

Hermione blushed lightly, not ashamed of her aunt seeing her in the bath, but feeling weird discussing matters of her body.

“Is that why my… chest is growing and feels weird sometimes?”

“Yes,” Narcissa smiled lightly. “Let’s take a girl’s day, we’ll Floo to Paris and pick you up some new clothes to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Becoming a woman, of course! My mother took me shopping once I started my menses, and I’d love to do the same with you.”

“Of course, Aunt Cissa. I need bathing suits for the beach, anyways, and I would rather not have daddy’s comments when I try them on.”

The woman laughed. “That’s why you have me, dear. We’ll get you all set.”

xxxxxxxxx

Hermione had never gone on a vacation with friends, but she knew it was the most fun she’d ever had.

“He said what?” Daphne asked through giggles.

“Something something kiss me something something,” Pansy replied with eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “He was like, five hundred years old. I thought Perseus was going to kill him.”

“I’m sure it would be nice having my first kiss with an older man, I’m sure he was experienced,” Luna replied, drawing surprised laughs from the girls.

“That’s so weird, Luna! He probably didn’t have teeth, he was so old,” Pansy replied, unable to stop a grin from forming on her face.

“Up to no good, girls?” Marcus Flint asked as he made his way up the stairs to the patio the girls were lounging on as they looked towards the water. The Lestrange’s Grecian summer home was built directly next to the Malfoys, and they’d spent more time outside than they did inside by that point.

“What do you want, Marcus? Realizing we’re more fun than the boys?” Pansy asked.

“Just seeing if you lot want to go to the square tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Hermione squealed. “We’ve wanted to go so badly!”

“Sounds good,” Marcus replied, heading back down the stairs now that he’d done his job. “Have fun tonight doing… whatever you girls do.”

“You don’t want to know!” Astoria Greengrass shouted back. Hermione was pleased to discover that the girl was just as fun as her sister, if not more outgoing.

“We should go take a bubble bath together,” Luna suggested. “I think tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

The girls nodded, feeling tired enough not to question Luna’s ominous statement.

xxxxxxxxx

Hermione stuck by her father’s side, holding his hand as they walked to the wizarding hub of Crete with Luna holding his other hand.

“I’ve never been here, precious, so you need to promise me you girls won’t wander off,” Rodolphus directed, voice serious as he looked down at his daughter. There were dangerous wizards everywhere, and he was especially on edge in a foreign country with a large group of pretty little girls under his charge.

“Yes, daddy. We’ll be safe!”

Hermione was in awe as she looked around the brightly colored square that popped up as soon as they walked into a rundown alleyway and Uncle Lucius tapped his wand on a big garbage can.

“Wow,” she breathed, sharing a grin with her friends.

“Wicked, right?” Draco asked, bumping shoulders softly with Hermione as he walked near her.

“It’s amazing! I want to visit all of the shops…”

“We have another week here, we’ll have time,” Draco smiled. “Where to first?”

Pansy made the choice for them, leading the girls over to a clothing store that had the boys rolling their eyes and urging their parents to follow.

“I’ll go with the girls,” Narcissa said to Rodolphus with a smile. “We’ll meet you at the bookstore shortly.”

“Are you sure you’re fine with all of them?” Rodolphus asked, uncaring of being rude when his daughter’s safety was involved.

“Yes, Rod,” Narcissa replied with an eye roll. “We’ll see you shortly.”

Hermione gave him a quick hug and comforting smile before huddling up with her friends and walking into the upscale store.

“I have a bad feeling,” Daphne murmured to Hermione, rubbing a small hand over her forehead.

“Girls, we should get matching dresses in different colors!” Pansy crowed happily before Hermione could reply to Daphne.

“Welcome ladies,” an older woman with perfectly tanned skin greeted. “May I help you find something?”

“We need this dress in a color that suits each of the girls,” Narcissa replied, holding up a light blue dress with gold lining the seams and a golden rope around the waist.

“Very well, a good choice for the summertime,” the woman replied before sizing up the girls and accioing five dresses from the back.

“We’ll need to take photos! Maybe we can even go to a nice dinner to wear them out,” Daphne exclaimed, dreaming of the seafoam green dress she’d just bought.

“That’s a wonderful plan, Daphne,” Narcissa approved, drawing a light blush from her fellow blonde.

“Thank you Mrs. Malfoy,” the girl replied politely.

“Where’s the bookshop?” Pansy asked as she peered further into the large wizarding square.

At the same time, Daphne stiffened.

“Back this way, girls.” Narcissa directed, striding ahead of the girls.

“Stop!” Daphne ordered loudly. “Stop!” 

Narcissa turned after taking another long step, immediately crumpling to the ground as three dingily dressed men stepped out from a dark alley between two stores. The girls shrieked, looking around the uncrowded area of the square they were now in.

“When will men learn not to leave pretty little rich things alone?” one of the men said, the three of them holding up wands to the defenseless girls.

“Astoria, run and get help,” Hermione whispered with a shaky voice. “I’ll distract them.”

“Okay,” the little girl whispered through tears.

“Leave us alone!” Hermione demanded, her voice loud despite the tremors that punctuated the words.

“What are you gonna do, little girl? You lot don’t even have wands, not that you’d know how to use them.”

“We don’t want much, just some coins… maybe a little touch from the pretty lady,” a second man said, bending down to where Narcissa was laid out on the cobblestone. Hermione was relieved that there was no blood staining the woman’s hair despite her hard fall.

“No!” Luna shrieked as the man bent down with a grimy hand reached out towards Narcissa’s prone form. Hermione was astonished to watch a flock of birds fly into the square, flapping their wings tranquilly over their head. As though they were waiting for a sign, they descended on the trio of men as soon as Luna yanked her hand downwards as though she were forcefully pulling a loose string off of her dress.

“Expelliarmus!” Lucius shouted, the spell echoed by the other men as they ran up. Jorund Rowle lumbered up to the group which terrified them by the sheer fact of his size, allowing the others to get them tie them up and connect their wands without a struggle.

Mrs. Pucey bent down near Narcissa, wedging a hand between the cobblestone pathway and her head as she whispered rennervate.

“Treasure?” Lucius asked quietly, kneeling down next to his wife.

“I’m okay,” Narcissa slurred, smiling weakly.

“Aurors and healers are on the way,” Rabastan shared, having run to a shop to request assistance.

“You’re okay, Narcissa. Let’s keep you here until the healers arrive,” Lucius commanded.

“Boys, let’s get back to the house,” Albion Pucey said, corralling the boys with Regulus, Rabastan and Jorund Rowle.

Draco hugged Hermione tightly before moving to his mother’s side, terrified by the way the woman couldn’t keep her eyes focused on him while he talked.

Hermione kept her eyes on Luna as her daddy wrapped her up in a hug, alarmed by the way her friend looked simultaneously dazed and exhausted and Daphne was as pale as a ghost. 

What had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep me writing - please let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday, friends! I hope everyone is having a fantastic week so far. Thank you to my awesome beta CatzRko0L for getting this to a way better place than it was when I wrote it at 2am.
> 
> ENJOY!

“Daddy, I don’t think Draco wants to do that,” Hermione said, giggling behind her hands.

Rodolphus bit back a groan. How was his girl so perfect and pure? 

“Precious, this conversation is as difficult for me as it is for you. You’re going into your fifth year now, though, and I can’t put it off any longer. Can you promise me that you’ll be safe and let your uncles know if Draco tries anything that makes you uncomfortable?”

Hermione nodded, “Of course, I’d tell Uncle Tom, though. Uncle Sev would pour poison down dragon’s throat if he tried anything.”

“That’s what I expect.”

“Draco would never, he’s way more polite than the likes of Cormac McLaggen. He asked me to Hogsmeade three times last spring!”

Rodolphus stiffened. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?”

“It wasn’t a big deal, daddy. Just an annoying boy. I haven’t Seen anything bad.”

“What have I told you? Just because you haven’t Seen it, doesn’t mean it won’t happen, Hermione. You know this. I’m going to talk to your uncles, and you’re going to write to me if something else happens. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, daddy. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to hide it from you.” Hermione looked down, eyes filling with tears as they did whenever she was chastised.

Rodolphus moved to sit next to Hermione on the couch, pulling her in for a cuddle.

“I hate seeing you cry, precious. I know you weren’t hiding it from me, I just worry about if something were to happen at Hogwarts with Dumbledore as headmaster.”

“I know, I wish I could See something about him…” Hermione groaned, wrapping her arms tightly around the man.

“We’ll know more in due time. For now, let’s focus on keeping your grades up this year. Your Uncle Tom will have a fit if you beat his marks again.”

“I’m counting on that,” Hermione replied, sighing as she soaked in the time she had left with her daddy.

xxxxxxxxx 

“It’s still weird, Hermione,” Pansy scoffed.

“Like it’s not weird when you literally sniff out people’s lies like a bloodhound!” Hermione replied.

“Ladies… let’s settle down,” Theo, always the voice of reason, soothed. He received eye rolls in return for his best efforts.

“We didn’t ask for your intrusion, Theo!” Pansy scowled.

“Understood. I’ll just… go!” Theo stood up quickly, moving down to sit near the sixth years. Draco and Blaise shared a look, wishing they could also move down the table.

“They must give you all more green foods because of your house colors,” Luna mused, sliding into the seat that Theo left empty.

“You should just move in with us, the Ravenclaws don’t deserve you,” Daphne replied with a pout.

“I’m not sure it works like that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Last year with Professor Riddle on staff… what a shame. Hopefully his replacement is foreign,” Astoria said with a pout.

“Why foreign?” Blaise asked.

“Because I know every capable adult male in our country and none of them are anywhere near attractive enough to make Defense worth attending.”

“Astoria!” Hermione admonished while her own sister, Daphne, giggled behind cupped hands. “Defense is one of our most important classes. You should pay attention to more than his eyes.”

“So you’ve noticed them too?” Astoria asked, causing Draco to look up from his roast chicken.

Hermione blushed, “Not like that! He’s my uncle. That doesn’t make me immune to listening to Lavender Brown’s constant sighing in our joint classes. Fourth year is important, Tori. Make sure you try!”

“I will, enough with the harping! Maybe he’ll hire me as his secretary one day.”

“Like you’ll be working, Tori,” Pansy laughed.

“I might have to, Pansy!” the girl whisper-shouted, cheeks turning red.

Hermione was shocked to find out this past summer that the girl had a rare blood disorder that rendered her infertile. She’d wondered for years as to why Daphne was given the blood rite by the Greengrasses, but it made sense to her now. They needed a daughter who could go for a high bride price and that wouldn’t be Astoria. Thankfully, the Greengrasses were the right side of a gray family and were offered a young muggleborn girl to undergo the blood right to replace their youngest. The Lestrange could tell it was a sore spot and knew Pansy would be feeling guilty for the next few days.

“Four Septembers have passed and S.P.E.W. is finally in full force. I feel so accomplished!” Hermione interjected, wanting to change the subject.

Luna, for all of her quirks, caught on quickly. “Sprouts, peas, asparagus, aubergine… and no pools of butter at the bottom of dishes this year. The elves are finally coming around.”

Hermione gave her friend a surprised look at the slight jab, “The elves were always trying! It was the headmaster who had a problem with changing the menu.”

“Must we relive this again?” Pansy sighed.

“My father said we can all visit our chalet in Klosters over the winter hols,” Draco offered, changing the subject.

Blaise let out a whistle. “Colour me impressed, Malfoy. Klosters proper?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Are you surprised? Ask Hermione, she’s been.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Don’t boast, Draco. It’s beautiful, he’s right. The house elves make the most amazing raclette, too.”

“What’s that?” Tracey asked.

“It’s a Swiss cheese that melts, you can put it on almost everything. I dream of it,” Hermione sighed.

“Let’s just make it through the next few months, then we’ll be in the mountains eating warm cheese,” Daphne sighed.

“Warm cheese?” Theo asked from down the table.

“Nope, not you. Not invited!” Pansy shouted back, causing the group to burst into laughter. Fifth year would be a good one.

xxxxxxxxx

Hermione had settled into her routine almost too easily, which is why she wasn’t surprised at when things went downhill.

One minute she was listening to Professor Riddle in the Slytherin’s Defense class, and the next she was witnessing one of the most horrific scenes she’d ever laid eyes on.

Her stomach rolled the second she came back to herself, and she couldn’t help but throw up all over what she realized were Draco’s legs.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Draco soothed. “Can someone get water? Now?”

“I’ll get the nurse,” Tracey said, face pale white.

“No!” Tom ordered, voice more cold than anyone had heard. “No one is leaving this room.”

“You’re just fine, princess,” Draco murmured. Hermione smiled back at him, letting out a giggle when she realized what a sight she probably made. Then, a moment later, a sob at the memory of what she just Saw. “What do you need?”

“My daddy,” Hermioned whimpered, uncaring that she sounded much younger than the fifth year she was. “I don’t want to be here.”

Draco grimaced, clearly wanting to give Hermione what she wanted. He knew, however, that the chance of getting her out of Hogwarts without dealing with the Headmaster was low. Tom had an election coming up in December and couldn’t risk anything other than a pristine year.

He’d been enraged years earlier when Hermione had a vision showing him saving the life of a student two years from that point, gaining him accolades from the international wizarding community. The story went that a group of seventh years had snuck out to Hogsmeade on a full moon and the wayward Macmillan heir was cornered by a werewolf. A properly-timed and properly-placed Professor Riddle stepped in to save the boy before he was bit, rendering him a hero-status that would make his bid for minister a shoo-in. He hated to spend any more time than necessary at Hogwarts, but trusted Hermione’s Sight.

“Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!” Tom shot out, causing screams to echo. Hermione couldn’t lift her head even if she wanted to. After all this time, she still felt sick and exhausted after a Vision.

“What the hell!” Pansy shrieked, looking at the now unmoving bodies of Tracey, Crabbe and Goyle.

“Quiet, girl,” Tom directed with a look that belied his panic in the moment. Pansy didn’t speak again.

“Hermione, what did you See?” Tom asked quietly, kneeling down and vanishing the vomit that was splattered all over Draco and the floor.

“A girl… she was screaming and bleeding everywhere. They kept torturing her and she was changing into different animals every time… they wouldn’t stop.”

Tom shook his head. “Who is they?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said with a frustrated shake of her head. “I heard two male voices… that’s all I know.”

“Relax now, my darling girl. I’ll be back in a moment. Draco, give her your cloak. She’s shaking,” Tom said, before turning to address the others. “Children, I know you must be frightened, but I need you to remain calm.”

Daphne, Pansy, Blaise and Theo were silent. They all knew enough to know that their professor wasn’t a man to be trifled with and he was much more than… an educator. They knew enough to be terrified of the man who’d just knocked out three 15-year-olds.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. Class ends in 17 minutes. Before then, we’ll get Hermione cleaned up, obliviate Miss Davis and the dunderheaded duo, and never speak of this again. Am I clear?”

“Why can’t they know?”

“They aren’t to be trusted, Miss Greengrass. They don’t understand what’s at risk here.”

Daphne’s eyes widened. “Sir, I don’t think I know what’s at risk here.”

“In due time, Miss Greengrass. In due time.”

xxxxxxxxx 

Hermione was… surprised at how quickly her life went back to normal after her classmates saw her at her worst and most vulnerable. She still had no idea what had happened, thinking the time in her uncle’s classroom felt like a sick nightmare. She’d felt guilty for the past two weeks at the way Tracey, the only half-blood in their dorm, was even more isolated than normal. There was nothing she could do to make Tracey less on the fray, even if she had the time to. Fifth year was proving to be just as difficult as she’d been warned and it seemed like no one else was taking it as seriously as she was. It was only a matter of time before she snapped.

“Princess, just go to Hogsmeade with me for one hour,” Draco asked, standing behind her chair and gently braiding her hair. “You’re almost out of sugar quills and red ink.”

“Could you pick more up for me, then?” the girl asked as she continued to speed read over her essay on the merits and flaws of summoning charms that was due to Professor Flitwick later that day.

Draco was silent until he finished braiding and moved to kneel in front of the girl, uncaring of who was watching. It was a scene that Slytherins had seen throughout the years, a betrothed couple acting tenderly in public. No one spared a glance for the most part, only heartsick third year girls and half-bloods who were still interested by the idea of marriage contracts.

“Hermione,” Draco said slowly, plucking Hermione’s quill from her hand. “Please go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow. We have a week until exams and you’re already ahead of your revision schedule. What would your father say if he knew you were lying about taking Hogsmeade weekends off?”

The girl blushed and scowled. “Don’t use him against me, Draco! I just want to do well. The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing, while the soul of the diligent is richly supplied.”

“Are you quoting that old book Sirius got you again?”

“It’s called the bible, Draco! It’s highly-regarded in a majority of muggle nations,” Hermione primly replied.

“In any case… You’re going to do well, love,” Draco promised, taking Hermione’s now-free hand into his own. “One hour without studying isn’t going to change that, yes?”

“Yes,” Hermione muttered, leaning into the comforting warmth of the blond next to her. She was no fool and had noticed the way he’d grown up in front of her eyes. He was getting taller, broader, and more handsome every day. Unlike Pansy, she’d never found her Uncle Lucius attractive, but Draco? She only had eyes for him.

“Rest your eyes, we don’t need you losing your eyesight before we graduate,” Draco ordered lightly, smiling when he saw that Hermione followed his directions. They sat in relative silence for a while, enjoying the empty common room.

It could’ve been five minutes or two hours later when the door to the common room opened again, bringing in a haggard-looking Astoria.

“Tori?” Hermione gasped, standing up and pulling away from Draco. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know… I can’t remember,” the girl moaned, taking comfort from the hug her friend wrapped her in.

“Draco, get Daphne now!” Hermione commanded, knowing the blond would grab a broom and fly up the stairs. “Where are you hurt Tori? I’ve got you, let’s get you on the couch.”

“Ugh, I’m fine. I’m fine,” the girl insisted, her pale face showing that she was anything but.

“Stori?” Daphne squeaked, clattering down the stairs with Pansy, Theo, Draco and Blaise right behind her.

“Daph, I’m fine,” the girl replied. 

“You’re lying, your aura is all wrong!” Daphne spat back, eyes squinted behind her sister’s head.

“Just leave me alone! I’m okay, just tired. I don’t need you lot coddling me!”

“We’ll leave you alone if you tell us what happened,” Theo insisted, receiving an approving look from Daphne.

“I don’t remember. Last thing I remember is leaving dinner and heading towards the library… next thing I know, I’m waking up between two statues on the sixth floor with a sore head.”

“Did you talk to anyone?” Hermione asked, still kneeling beside her friend.

“No.”

“Did you see anyone in the hallway?”

“Professor Sinistra, a few Gryffindor kids, and the headmaster… nothing out of the ordinary.”

Hermione shared a look with Daphne and Pansy. What was the headmaster up to?

xxxxxxxxx

“What’s wrong, Hermione? You’ve been dark the past two weeks and I know it isn’t exams,” Daphne said softly.

“I don’t know,” she replied in a similarly quiet voice.

“You do know, that’s a lie.” Pansy replied.

“I think we should’ve told an adult years ago about what the headmaster did. Do you think we’re too late?”

“It’s never too late to do the right thing,” Luna piped up from her nest of blankets and pillows. The group was at the Malfoy’s Swiss chalet and enjoying a quiet night while the boys were off doing… whatever boys did.

“Who should we tell?” Hermione asked. The room was silent for a moment while the girls thought it over.

“Professor Riddle,” the five girls all ended up saying at once. They shared shocked looks at their rare agreement on something.

“I can get him up here,” Hermione determined.

“Be calm, Hermione! Your dad will know something is wrong if you act crazy,” Pansy whisper-shouted.

“I am always calm!” Hermione pouted as she stormed out the door to the giggles of her friends.

Hermione walked down the stairs, already wearing her long lilac nightgown. The girl only knocked once before opening the door to the drawing room where the men were all nursing drinks.

“Precious?” Rodolphus asked, immediately standing up and moving over to hug the girl as though he hadn’t seen her an hour before. “Do you girls need something? More cocoa?”

Hermione giggled, “No, daddy, Emy the elf keeps bringing us more. We were hoping Uncle Tom could come upstairs and show us how to make bluebells to light up our room.”

The other men all looked at Tom expectantly. He barely let out a sigh before putting his drink down and standing up.

“Who am I to say no to you ladies?” 

“A fool,” Rabastan muttered, drawing a short laugh from his husband and Severus.

The walk upstairs was silent, but the moment the door shut, Tom waved his wand to cast silencing charms.

“What do you girls want?”

“I told you, Uncle Tom. Help casting bluebells,” Hermione replied, fluttering her eyelashes and eliciting snickers from her friends.

“Little girl,” Tom warned.

“We think we’ve made a mistake,” Hermione admitted as the others nodded. “We think the headmaster is up to something and we’ve just let it go on without telling anyone.”

“What she’s tiptoeing around is that both Hermione and I had the headmaster soak up our blood from dubiously occurring injuries our first year. Then, right before winter hols this year, Astoria came into the common room with no memory of what had occurred to her. The only thing she could recall was seeing the headmaster before passing out between two statues. We don’t know what he’s up to, but we can’t face it alone.”

Tom sat down as regally as a grown man could on a lace-covered vanity chair.

“I appreciate you girls confiding in me, but unfortunately I don’t think there’s anything that can be done here. It’s no surprise that the headmaster and I don’t see eye-to-eye, but he has a clean record. I don’t believe he’s up to anything.”

Pansy scoffed, surprising the other girls at her blatant disrespect for their soon-to-be minister.

“Miss Parkinson,” Tom warned, the chastised girl avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry, girls. I can’t act on a hunch when I’m months from the election.”

“We understand, Uncle Tom,” Hermione replied, knowing she’d have to be the polite one.

“Please don’t hesitate to let me know if anything else comes up,” Tom replied as he stood up and left the room with a small smile.

Hermione cast silencing charms of her own when the man left.

“I wonder what age we’ll be when we stop seeing the world in colour?” Luna asked.

“What now?” Astoria asked with wide eyes.

“Much to the surprise of our parents, we don’t need adults to get by. We’ll get to the bottom of this ourselves,” Hermione replied with narrowed eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews keep me going. Let me know what you think. Let me know what you predict is coming! Things are a brewing and next chapter you'll find out what the heck is going on!!!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may feel like a filler, but I have had this scene in my mind since the start of this fic. I wanted to focus solely on Dramione and hope you all enjoy!

“Do you think I’m childish?” Hermione asked quietly, face blushing despite the fact that her eyes were closed. Even asking the question annoyed her.

Draco hummed before answering, fingers only stilling for a moment in her hair. 

“Childish? No. Sweet? Yes. Idealistic? Yes. Innocent? Yes.”

“Why does no one describe boys as innocent or childish?”

“Because we’re raised not to be,” Draco replied, slightly uncomfortable with the turn this conversation was taken. The pair was blissfully alone at Malfoy Manor, curled up on matching sofas in the library. They’d leave for Hogwarts again tomorrow, but were taking the peace and quiet while it was still available to them.

“What are girls raised to be then, Draco? I have the best grades in our year!” Hermione reminded him, letting out a huffed breath. Her eyes were still closed.

“Hermione… I feel like you’re going to be cross with me no matter what I say.”

“Then just say it!”

“Witches and wizards are raised to fulfill different roles… men sit on the Wizengamot and maintain the vaults, while women mind the house and raise the children. Equally important roles, just… different.”

Hermione’s eyes bulged open. “That’s ridiculous! Did you not hear what you just said, Draco?”

He shrugged. “That’s just the way it’s always been. Mother and father are happy, aren’t they?”

“Respectfully, Draco, Aunt Cissa didn’t have the highest marks in Hogwarts history!”

“No one’s saying you’re not smart, Hermione. What would you want to do?”

“I don’t know, but I feel like my future is being cut off before I can even plan it!”

Draco kissed her hair without thinking, lips awkwardly bumping her forehead.

“We can do whatever we want, Hermione.” Draco promised. “I can never say no to you.”

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, sitting up turning away from Draco’s concerned expression. “You won’t, but it seems like everyone else already wants to.”

xxxxxxxxx

“He just shoved his tongue in!” Pansy crowed, drawing gasps from her friends. “I liked it, though. I just wish someone would’ve told me!”

“Who could tell you?” Daphne asked, eyes wider than wide. “None of us have ever kissed someone!”

“We’re in the last week of fifth year, fourth for you two, why don’t you just go kiss someone?” Pansy asked.

“Don’t pressure us, Pansy!” Hermione scolded, shaking her head at her friend. “I’m happy you have Neville, we all are, but… we don’t have to always do the same thing.”

“I’m happy for you Pansy,” Luna smiled. “Neville’s quite handsome and has a dexterous tongue.”

The girls all laughed.

“What’s that even mean?” Pansy asked, her shoulder length hair splayed over the blanket they were on.

“He sticks it out sometimes when he’s concentrating… just looks like a well-used muscle.”

“Ew,” Daphne replied, receiving a sympathetic nod from Hermione.

“Ew what, ladies?” Blaise Zabini asked as he walked up and plopped himself down on the large blanket next to Luna. The blonde handed him an apple slice, receiving a grateful smile from the attractive man.

Hermione smiled at Draco, patting the empty space next to her.

“Seemed a bit heated,” Draco mused, clearly trying to get information.

“You don’t even want to know,” Hermione replied.

“What would you say about skiving off dinner?” Draco asked.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Will you feed me?”

“What kind of question is that?” Draco scoffed, reaching a long-fingered hand up to move his hair from his eyes. “Would I ever let you go hungry?”

“Hmm, if quidditch is involved, maybe.”

“No quidditch is involved, I swear. Just a night out with my darling.”

xxx

Hermione didn’t know what to expect when Draco promised a night out, but she got dressed up regardless. She made her way down to the Slytherin common room with her soft waves framing her face and a breezy sky blue dress on. 

“Hello beautiful,” Draco greeted, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s hand in a way that had her blushing.

“Can I know where we’re going?” Hermione replied, ever the hater of secrets.

“Absolutely not,” Draco replied, shaking his head. “We can leave now, though.”

Hermione was surprised to find that Draco was leading her to Uncle Sev’s room and not out the front doors towards Hogsmeade.

“If you’re not back by 11 as promised and I have to deal with Rodolphus, it’s your head, Draco,” Severus warned, not moving from where he was grading papers. His red-inked quill was slashing through the paper, and she sincerely hoped it wasn't one of hers.

“Of course, sir,” Draco replied seriously, causing Hermione to shake her head. The propriety that overtook Draco sometimes was forever amusing to her. For such a slick guy, he could be a real dork sometimes. And for some reason, she was endeared by it.

“Britannia International Hotel!” Draco called out after stepping into the fireplace with Hermione.

She let herself be pulled out by Draco when they arrived in an elegant Floo foyer, .

“Where are we?” Hermione whispered, clinging tightly to Draco’s hand after making sure no dust stuck to her dress.

“Just wait,” Draco said. “You’ll see in a moment.”

“Your honor,” a man in an upscale hotel uniform said as he walked up to the pair, bowing low. “It’s my truest pleasure to serve you and your betrothed tonight.”

“Thank you for having us,” Draco replied, tone regal as Hermione only ever heard it in public social situations.

“Of course, are you in need of refreshing before I show you to your seats?”

“No, our seats will be fine,” Draco replied. 

Hermione had to bite her gloss covered lip to not ask Draco what was going on. They headed through a rather busy hotel lobby, though unlike the wizarding accommodations she stayed in, this one was powered by electricity. She wondered why they were there. Though the hotel was fine, it wasn’t as beautiful as anywhere they’d stayed in the past. Perhaps there was a world-class restaurant?

The employee walked the pair to a seemingly set of double doors that he hefted open, waving a hand inside.

“You’ll be at table three, directly in the center of the stage.”

The room was buzzing with well-dressed individuals; Hermione realized that she recognized none of them and that no wands were out. Was this a muggle gathering?

Draco’s strong hand in the crook of her elbow was the only thing grounding her and keeping her from asking a million questions. Didn’t he know how impatient she was? She needed to know what was going on… now.

“Almost there,” Draco murmured, causing Hermione to shiver at the warmth of his breath in her ear. How did he manage to bend down to her height without looking like a grotesque hunchback? The wonders of Draco Malfoy never ceased. “I’m going to introduce you to some very powerful muggles, just follow my lead.”

“Ah, Lord Malfoy! I’m so pleased you could join us,” an old, yet stately, man said with a smile. He stood up from the table, holding a hand out towards Hermione. “This must be your Hermione… it’s a pleasure to meet you, dear.”

“You as well, sir,” Hermione smiled, accepting a kiss on the back of her hand as dictated by etiquette. 

“Love, this is Sir Denis and his wife, the Honourable Margaret Thatcher.”

Hermione saw the guards stationed behind the couple, and it didn’t take much for her to piece together that the woman was the important one of the pair.

“It’s a true honour to meet you both,” Hermione greeted. “Thank you for having us.”

“It’s our pleasure, my girl,” the put-together woman greeted. “My Denis hasn’t stopped talking about the young man he met at what should’ve been a boring business dinner, and we simply had to have you here.”

“Draco has an incredible gift of making even the most droll moments fun,” Hermione agreed, receiving twin laughs for her efforts.

“Why don’t we take a seat? Dinner should be served soon,” the older woman suggested, waiting for her husband to pull her seat out. Hermione was a bit guilty at the surprise she felt over muggles being so refined; her Uncles Sev and Sirius would be disappointed.

“Sounds lovely,” Hermione replied honestly, not knowing what the night had in store, but trusting Draco’s planning skills implicitly.

xxxxxxxxx

Hermione had never drank before, so the pretty pink wine she’d been sipping on all night had left her feeling floaty and giggly.

“Dragon, you just… stalked the former Prime Minister’s husband to try and get an invite somewhere?” Hermione gasped with a giggle, holding onto his arm as they took a walk outside of the hotel.

“You make it sound so sinister! Can’t a wizard have some fun once in a while?”

Hermione wrapped her free arm around Draco, nuzzling her head into his shoulder like a cat.

“I had so much fun tonight,” Hermione sighed. “Why do I feel like we never just have fun together?”

“We’re always being watched,” Draco replied honestly, far less intoxicated than Hermione. He hated to treat her like a dog, but hoped that a short walk would clear her head a bit. “When we’re married, we can do more like this.”

“Tonight was the muggle Prime Minister, what’s going to happen when we’re married? Jesus Christ?”

“I don’t think he’s real, Hermione,” Draco replied patiently, already knowing the pushback he’d receive from his Bible-reading, non-Christian betrothed. “I don’t know, though; whatever we want. We can travel, meet new people, eat whatever we want and learn more about magic… the world is our oyster.”

“What was the point of tonight then, Dragon? Show me a powerful woman and then tell me too bad, you can never have that?”

Draco stopped walking and pulled Hermione in front of him.

“No, Hermione,” Draco replied seriously, swallowing a sigh. “I brought you here so you could see that women defy societal expectations daily; what did she say? Breaking the glass ceiling? You can do that too. I’ll be here for you, whatever you want to do.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco, finding comfort in hugging the much larger man.

“I wish it was easier,” she replied honestly. “With Tom, with muggleborns, with all of it… a fresh start would be nice.”

“Anything you want, princess, just say the word. I’ll do anything to keep you safe and happy.”

“I know,” Hermione replied earnestly, pulling back and smiling softly up at Draco. In a moment fueled by liquid courage, she tugged on his shirt collar to bring his lips down to her own. Their kiss wasn’t one full of electricity that made her curls stand on edge, but it was full of a tender, comfortable warmth that had her stomach curling up like the cat that got the canary. It was sweet, it was full of promise, and it was full of intention. Kissing Draco was nice, and she couldn’t help but think of how nice it’d be kissing only him for the rest of her days. Adventure was certainly nice in many aspects of life, but in romance? She’d stick to the confident, steady love of her Dragon.

“Hermione,” Draco murmured after they pulled away, tentative tongues meeting in between sealed lips before the Malfoy man realized that they’d gone far enough for one night.

“I liked it,” she whispered, cheeks a rosy red.

“Me too, love,” Draco replied honestly, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “You’re perfect.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, softly pushing against Draco’s chest. “No one’s perfect, but based on what I’ve Seen… we’re perfect for each other. I think that may be all that matters.”

“Cheers to that,” Draco replied, smacking another kiss on her hair before standing up. “We need to get back before Sev kills us.”

Hermione let out a giggling groan, “I just can’t wait for him to meet his wife! He looks so much happier with a family.”

“Have you changed your mind on giving me details? Can I at least know how many kids he has?”

“Not a chance, Draco! You can be just as surprised as everyone else. Be grateful you don’t have to live with the knowledge that so many things are going to happen, but having no idea when. It’s too much to bear sometimes,” Hermione said honestly, huffing after her tangent was finished.

“You’re stronger than anyone I know,” the blond said honestly. “I just wish I could see Uncle Sev happy, it might make his classes more palatable.”

“Maybe if you and Theo stopped talking, he’d treat you better in class! Do you know how to get back?”

“Of course I know how to get back,” Draco scoffed, hiding his internal panic over whether they’d taken a right or a left after exiting the hotel.

“Sure you do,” Hermione smirked, snuggling back into Draco’s side. For now, she was content to blister her feet up in unforgiving heels and enjoy an unexpected night out with Draco.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to reach out with any and all errors you see. I'm sure there are many as I currently don't have a beta. I’m on tumblr at /thiscitychickk, I have no idea how it works but my messages are open!


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